Atronach
by Il Volpe di Verde
Summary: HP AU- Harry is introduced to magic and magical politics early, and discovers a power that opens limitless doors. He discovers he is an atronach, essentially a magic sponge. With this in mind, he progresses through Hogwarts differently, and with more cards up his sleeve than what's thought. Slytherin!Harry, possibly Neutral!Harry, no pairings for obvious reasons inside. Please R/R
1. The Beginning

Long ass AN: HAHA HI GUYS I'M ACTUALLY WRITING SOMETHING EVEN IF ITS NOT YOUR THING. Soooooo a while ago I did as many people did and came up with ideas half asleep and at one point I was like "yOOOO WHAT IF HARRY COULD LIKE FUCKIN SEE MAGICCC AND DO WEIRD STUFFF" and combobulated this whole thing involving slytherins and code names and shit. But then, once I had more than 5 hours of sleep, started thinking about the HOW this would go about. And... this is what led to it? I have to admit there's things like Blaise (who was randomly picked because Albino Boy AKA Draco Malfoy was not good for the scheme of things) that might seem a bit outta wack, but really... it'll hopefully be better than how he gets characterised in other stories. Maybe. Hopefully. There aren't really going to be any pairings because, whoa there, flames NOT wanted, but there'll probs be some close things you can take as you please. Not to mention they're going to be like, UNDER 12 YEARS OLD for a good portion, if not all of this. SO. LETS GET TO THIS SHIT.

GENERALS: Rated T at worst, Slytherin!Neutral!Harry, goes to end of 1st year for now.

**EDITED FOR SMOOTHNESS 16.9.14**

* * *

As many probably know through overly-invasive news sources, Harry Potter was sent to live with his muggle relatives after the war heroes James and Lily Potter died. He was one-year old, a half-blood, and was reputed to have defeated the Dark Lord He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Voldemort. Albus too-many-middle-names Dumbledore will call sending him there as a measure to protect him and keep him from being put into the limelight for the next ten years. As the majority of the Hogwarts staff know, Professor Minerva McGonagall chewed said Albus Dumbledore out for weeks after this decision, claiming the muggles were the worst kind of people, and that sending Harry there was no good. In all actuality, the woman was completely right, and if it weren't for the subsequent "childhood", _many, many problems _could have been avoided; on the other side of the coin, certain events would not have happened, making the situation all the worse. Maybe Harry would have grown up to be some dependent, reckless, angst-ridden child. Who knows? But, the farce of a childhood that was Harry Potter's did indeed happen, and not much could stop that. Thankfully, some could make it _better _at least.

* * *

At Number 4, Privet Drive, there lived a "normal" family of four. The mother stayed home and watched her child, the father went to work and paid bills, and the son went to school and was generally viewed as problematic, as children can be. The mother, Mrs. Petunia Dursley was a picture perfect woman, although her pictures weren't very pleasant to observe. She often gossiped with and about the neighbors, and was very lazy. The father, Mr. Vernon Dursley, was very quick-tempered, and loved to gobble anything that came across his gullet; his leisure activities often involved the couch, tellie, the nephew, or brandy. Sometimes, it was a combination of them. The son, Dudley Dursley, was a bully of a child, and often delighted in extracting lunch money from smaller children or tormenting them.

The nephew, Harry Potter, was a small boy, very much liked by his teachers who adored his quietness and love for learning. Little Harry was constantly reading in his free time, and was looking forward to when he was older and able to reach the higher shelves in the school library. Harry went to school of course, but also cooked, cleaned, and straightened up the Dursley house every weekend and afternoon. He had done so for as long as he remembered, and had long grown use to the routine. He of course knew the Dursleys were not his actual family, as his mother and father had died in a drunken car crash- according to Aunt Petunia. They took him in when they died, and it led from there. It was a dull life, with not much happening beyond a few _incidents_ that were not mentioned for fear of beatings, and said horrendous beatings themselves. Uncle Vernon was usually the one delivering them with a belt or cane, unless Aunt Petunia had her frying pan at hand. Until the March of Harry's second year in school, it was practically boring for him. Until.

Harry could pinpoint exactly where everything went strange, and doubted he would ever forget it. After all, if that day had never happened, he would have been left in the dark water to swim for himself.

It was a pleasant Saturday in terms of weather, not a cloud could be seen; it wasn't too hot or too cold, a miracle in England. The pollen wasn't overbearing, and the plants were cheerfully swaying in the breeze. Truly, the wonders of Spring should never be ignored, especially when one is trying to weed a garden as Harry was. Harry, at his young age of 6, was currently pulling weed after weed out, trying to ignore the aches in his arms and dryness of his throat. Aunt Petunia had shoved him out here after making him cook breakfast (seven pancakes, five pieces of bacon, two big, fat sausages, and two pieces of toast for him), and had barked at him to finish by lunch. Right now, the sun was nearly in the middle of the sky, and he was near done, thankfully.

Harry was relieved, as the last time he hadn't finished on time, Uncle Vernon had gotten this- _look_- on his face, and Harry was barred from eating for the rest of the day. He supposed he should be angry at that, but it was far better than what could have happened. If you didn't finish your chores on time, you were punished. Sure, he was upset, but so were the pits of life. Harry was lucky he wasn't slapped around a bit. He was pretty sure it was because school had started again- teachers would notice if he had bruises on his arms or legs.

Chasing his thoughts away for the time-being with the easiness only children seem to have, Harry finished up his work and piled the last weed into the bucket beside him. It was hardly filled, with barely enough weeds to reach the top. His constant work paid off in some ways, at least. Setting that aside, he stood up and stretched a bit. He had been hunched over that garden for _hours_, and it made him sore like nothing else. But if it weren't for him, the garden would look less than the perfection it had been groomed to; and as much as Harry didn't like the work, the flowers were always very pretty. Sighing, he glanced towards the front door. Maybe if he went inside and asked as nice as he could, Aunt Petunia would give him something to eat and let him wash up before starting the rest of his work. If not, he could always swipe something when she wasn't looking and use the hose; he had done that before when she completely forgot he was out there... But before he had time to trudge into the house and ask, Aunt Petunia popped her head out herself. Peering around the yard, she quickly spotted Harry and gave him the usual horsey glare.

"Boy!" She hissed, "Get in here and wash yourself up! Mrs. Figg can't take you on account of her cats being sick, so you're coming with us to London!" Now, this in itself was one of the weirdest things to happen to Harry. Whenever the Dursleys had to go anywhere, they left him with Mrs. Figg, an old woman across the street with far too many cats, and a house that smelled of mildly-off cabbage. She would show him dozens of pictures of her cats and feed him mildly-off cake that he enjoyed anyway for the sake of sustenance. If she wasn't available, they left him with the neighbor Mr. Lawrence, a short man with a greying widow's peak, but after the police were seen at his house a week ago, no one went near_ him _anymore.

So, with a fair amount of both trepidation and excitement, Harry went inside in preparation to go to London for the day.

* * *

After a ride composed of Dudley knocking Harry in the head, Harry wishing he could give Dudley an uppercut, and Vernon cursing and swearing at the other drivers on the road, they finally parked the car near some shops. Unlike Little Whinging, where everything was uniform and clear-cut, London seemed to twist and tangle into different shapes and colours, not bothering to conform. It delighted Harry to no end. Where they had situated themselves, there seemed to be a great many clothing shops, ranging from women's clothes and children's, to even what was a store for "maternity clothes", whatever those were.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see what looked like a bookstore, or maybe even an antique store. It looked old, much older than the buildings surrounding it, and was very out of place next to buildings like "Dory's Dressings". Even with the mix-and-match of London, it stood out, appearing to belong in an illustration of Victorian stores than on the street of modern London. It even seemed to shimmer a bit, with a sort of... a glow. It made him curious, but he had little time to ponder if it was a trick of his mind before Vernon tugged him by the shirt and shoved his fat, red face into his. He flinched, but knew nothing would happen in public; too many people to watch and whisper. Vernon's face was slowly turning a plum colour that reminded Harry of the ugly shirt his teacher had worn the other day. He guessed he missed Uncle Vernon saying something to him while he was looking around.

"_Listen_ here, boy. You stay here, outside the store while we shop for new clothes for your Aunt, and _do not move_. If we find you somewhere else, I promise your last month will look like a _picnic_." Harry flinched, remembering the incident. In the middle of class, Ms. Carrie's wig had suddenly turned a bright blue. Although no one in class could figure out what happened and no one confessed to doing something, the Dursleys had insisted it was Harry's fault. His back still smarted at the memory. Uncle Vernon shook him suddenly, his face turning an even deeper shade of plum. "DO YOU _UNDERSTAND?" _

Harry flinched again. "Yes, sir." He whispered. Vernon let go of his shirt, a faint sneer on his face, and walked- hobbled- into the nearest clothes store with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. He was almost sure he heard Dudley whining about being bored already as the door swung closed. Harry himself settled in for a long wait, knowing it could take hours with how his Aunt could be. The streets were crowded, but he managed to find a slight ledge on one of the store windows that he could perch on, and watched the various passersby.

One woman he saw was round, and seemed to have a warm air around herself. Her ginger hair stood out, and she was dragging what must have been her children across the street. They all looked wary of it, for some reason. Looking closer, Harry could see they had a strange glow as well, and he could even nearly make out- colours, of all things!_ I must be imagining it_, he thought, _or light-headed from not getting lunch_. He watched as they finally reached the other side and hurried to the book-antique-store he noticed earlier. What were they getting, he wondered? Turning his attention away, he also spotted a man with curly, black hair stalking into a nearby cafe with a phone in his hands. No one bothered him as he watched from his makeshift seat.

He passed time in this fashion, watching the streets, seeing the people. Tall, short, dark, light, they all blended into the streets. Some had the imaginary glow Harry was steadfastly ignoring, while others were as dull as can be. Some were rushing, while others were taking their leisure when walking. But he always felt his eyes pulled back to that mysterious store. Questions popped into his head, some sensible and some as crazy as any 6-year old can make them. What did they sell? Why did the store look so old? Why did no one else go in but the red-heads? Was it invisible? Could only he and the family see it? The thought of going into the store himself and seeing what was in it passed his mind a few times, but he always banished the thought. As curious as he was, he knew it was a bad idea, even at his age.

So he watched the street some more, trying to name the different cars from what Uncle Vernon mentioned at dinner and what the other children in class jabbered excitedly about. He could see what he thought was a Hummer, if the description Laura had given was right. A police car. A handful of taxis. Even a Cadillac passed by at one point. By the point an Oldsmobile, Thunderbird, and SUV passed, he was again bored with the road and started staring at the sky.

People can only hold out so long when curious and even shorter when bored, Harry slowly concluded. All he could do was sit out here and watch people, and that admittedly was tedious after an hour. If he moved, he'd be punished, and if he tried to talk to someone, they'd start asking questions he couldn't answer. It was a dismal experience. Sure, the curly-haired man before had started to run down the street yelling a while ago, with some poor blond man with a cane following him, and that was exciting, but once they disappeared, it was back to sitting there. But that store, that was something interesting, something he could explore instead of just SITTING here... Maybe he could briefly, just briefly, pop in and see what they sold to satiate his curiosity and then rush back before the Dursleys noticed he had moved. Pop in, say hello to anyone who noticed, rush out. Awesome plan.

Biting his lip, Harry glanced back into the store. His cousin and Uncle were at the back, barely visible, near what might have been the changing rooms. From the pile next to his Uncle, Harry bet it'd be another hour or so before they even approached the cashier. Glancing between them and the bookstore-yet-maybe-not, Harry made his decision. Jumping up, he rushed over to the crosswalk, where the light was just turning red. The crowd of other people bustled around him; it intimidated him a bit, but he knew none of them would notice him. No one really did unless he came up to them.

In just two minutes, he was across the street and in front of the store. It was one of the biggest, most dangerous things he had done. He was thrilled over it- he just hoped Uncle Vernon never found out. Looking up at the store sign, he could squint and make out that it said "The Warlock's Athenaeum" in faded yellow letters. They seemed to empower him, make this all feel like it was truly real, truly happening. Drawing in a big breath, he pushed the door open, and stepped in.

* * *

He wasn't expecting this. He wasn't expecting this at _all_. The store, for all purposes and appearances, looked like a tiny and desolate corner shop from the outside. On the _inside_, though, it was HUGE. The walls stretched back until he couldn't see them anymore, and the shelves lining them were like monoliths. Thick books, small books, _glowing _books, they all lined the shelves. And in between the shelves, Harry could see people walking and browsing. Some sat in between the shelves, some climbed up to grab something too high, some even- even seemed to _float_! But that was impossible! And there were tiny things, floating in the AIR- they had wings and faces and flitted around, and one even smacked into his cheek before whirling off in another direction. It was more than overwhelming, and he was starting to feel a bit dizzy.

It probably would have continued to be overwhelming (but unfortunately still dizzy) if it weren't for someone shoving him out of the doorway. "You are in the way." A light, cross voice said behind him- or to the side of him? He couldn't really tell after hurrying to the side. The voice was shortly followed by another, saying something in a foreign language with a scolding tone. Glancing to the side, he could see the person who -presumably- had shoved him. He had dark skin, with darker hair and eyes. He had that imaginary glow too, and if Harry squinted a little, like he did when he couldn't read something very well, he could see it was a faint bluish-purple. Behind him was a tall woman who must have been his mother, with curly hair tied into a loose ponytail on her head. When he squinted at her, she was a nice blue. They were both wearing strange clothes- sort of like bathrobes, except pimped out in every possible way. The boy looked him up and down, sneering and opened his mouth as if to say something before his mother(?) scolded him again. He sighed through his nose, before extending his hand to Harry with a glare.

"I apologise for shoving you. My name is Blaise Zabini." Harry stared at the hand, wondering what to say. He should probably give his name, but which one? The Dursleys just called him Boy or Freak, but the teachers at school usually called him Harry, or Mr. Potter. He personally preferred Harry, if only because it was less insulting. And the Dursleys always told him to keep shut of anything in the house.. Deciding to take the public route, he hesitantly took "Blaise Zabini"'s hand.

"I'm Harry Potter. I-it's alright, it's my fault anyways, I should have moved." He said, smiling depreciatively. Blaise seemed to have a double-take at that, and gaped at him. His mother whispered something that almost sounded like "Merlin"- but that doesn't make sense at all because who would say Merlin like he was God?- before ushering them further into the store so they didn't make the same mistake Harry did. She said something to Blaise again, and glanced at Harry - or more specifically, his head-, before going deeper into the store. As she guided them by the shoulders, Harry whipped his head to and fro, trying to catch titles of books. There was one called _Runes of the Egyptians_, and _The Beedle and the Bard_, and even one that he was fairly sure said _T__ae-Ha's Guide to South Korean Entities._

Blaise was staring at his head too, but he had much more of a reaction than his mother. His eyes looked like they were near about to bug out of his head, and his mouth was even open a bit! "If you are really Harry Potter, why are you dressed in muggle clothes?" Blaise asked, sneaking another glance down at Harry's hand-me-downs. _What's a muggle? _Harry wondered. Maybe it was a fashion line he didn't know that had all their clothes look like giant rags? Harry asked as much, and Blaise boggled at him some more. "You-you do not know what a _muggle _is?" He asked, astonished. When Harry shook his head, he stared even more at Harry, almost analysing him, or having some internal breakdown. Harry couldn't tell if it was one or the other, but it was sure making him nervous. Blaise's mother finally stopped pushing them about, dropping her hands from their shoulders. She bent down and muttered something in the other boy's ear, but he didn't care, or didn't hear. She gave out a sigh, and walked back the way they came, hands skimming the shelves. Harry watched her go.

But, when the darker boy was done with his strange staring, he huffed and grabbed Harry's attention back, asking, "Do you even know you are?" Confused, Harry shook his head once more and watched as Blaise Zabini made frustrated noises and threw his hands up over his answers. And then he explained it.

And that's how it all started.

* * *

It's short, but this is sorta my first shot at writing serious fanfiction, so I'm trying my best. ono Id also like to say that after editing this three times just to put in breaks, Im about to strangle something. Please review!


	2. In Which Irons Are Placed in the Fire

A/N WILL BE AT THE BOTTOM! Also, fair warning, this is still pre-hogwarts things, but necessary in the scheme of things :u

**EDITED FOR SMOOTHNESS AND CLARIFICATION ON... I DONT REALLY REMEMBER SOMETIME AFTER 20.9.14**

* * *

After Blaise had glared at Harry without heat for a bit, he tugged the smaller boy down the aisles a bit more to a small, unoccupied table in a small clearing between the shelves. There were comfortable chairs seated around it, perfect for perusing a book in. After they both settled down- awkwardly on Harry's part and impatiently on Blaise's-, the young pureblood started to talk.

Blaise's explanation (which was more like a string of ramblings that barely connected) of the magic world and magic itself was choppy, confusing in the way only children under ten-years old can achieve, and soaked in an accent that wasn't quite gone. Harry tried to his best to keep up with him, but he was already lost when Blaise first said magic was real.

"But magic isn't real," He broke in, "My aunt and uncle say magic is nothing but bad stories full of nasty freaks." Blaise crinkled his nose, and looked at Harry as if he smelled something wholly unpleasant.

"Your aunt and uncle are muggles. They do not have magic, so they do not understand how good it is. They are worse than blood-traitors and mudbloods anyways, so you should not listen to them." Blaise chided, waving off Harry's denials. Privately, Harry wondered what a "blood-traitor" or "mudblood" was, and why they sounded so insulting, but thought it rude and didn't ask as Blaise went on.

"You are a wizard, and so is anyone in this store. Only people with magic, magical creatures, and squibs can see this place." Glancing around, he asked, "Besides, have you not ever had anything really weird happen to you, like something changing colours or floating or even getting bigger or smaller when you were thinking about it?" Harry looked down at that, and thought about the teacher's wig changing colours when he was thinking about the book in the library with the blue-haired princess. He thought about whenever Aunt Petunia tried to cut his hair, it was the exact same length it had been before she cut it by the next day. He thought about how whenever Uncle Vernon was particularly angry, he never woke up the next day with more than bruises, no matter what broke. Harry also thought of the weird colours for a moment, but didn't know what to think of them and left it away from his thoughts. Looking up wide-eyed at Blaise, who was waiting for an answer, he slowly nodded. The other boy smiled at this, triumphant, and went on.

"That is magic! My mother calls it ac-cee-dental magic, and it happens sometimes when witches and wizards are really young. It usually stops when we get wands. But that happens when we are 11, and then we go to schools like Hogwarts, or Durmstrang, or Salem." Harry wondered just what sort of school was named "Hog Warts", but didn't say anything. Blaise didn't seem to mind that he didn't say much, either, since he was still going on with no stop.

"Like I said, muggles do not have magic, and mud-" He paused when a nearby woman narrowed her eyes at them, and amended, "_muggleborns _come from muggles, and the muggle world. They can do magic, but they do not know any traditions or spells or anything like that before they go to a magic school. Sort of like you, I guess. But you are a half-blood because your mama was a muggle-born and your papa was a pure-blood, like I am. Pure-bloods are all wizard." Blaise puffed up a bit saying this similar to a bird preening. Harry blinked, taking it all in. There were many confusing things about blood in the magic world, it appeared. Why didn't they just use simple O's and A's and B's like the... _muggle-world_. Is that what he lived in?

"Why did you call the muggleborns mudbloods at first? And w-why are muggles so bad?" Harry asked. Blaise blinked at him, surprised. Had he already forgotten what he said?

"Well... muggles are bad because they do not have magic. They do not have magic and they use strange things to get around and do things. And mud-muggleborns have muddy blood because they came from muggles." Blaise replied uneasily. " Half-bloods are better, but they still have some muggle blood in them."

Harry frowned at this, upset. "But how are they bad for not having magic? They can do lots of things like fly, and go to the moon, and cure sick people with science. And muggleborns still have magic too, even if they're from muggles." Blaise was frowning by now as well, and looked even more uneasy. He shifted around in his seat some, opened his mouth to talk, and then closed it.

"... It is not important." He said, staring at a shelf behind Harry's shoulder, "You were raised with them so you do not know any better." Harry was about to interrupt here with, well, _something_, but Blaise's eyes had widened, and he blurted out, " And- and you do not know who you actually are either, do you? You do not know what happened on Hallow's Eve, or about the Dark Lord since you didn't know about magic! _Merlin!_" This grabbed the attention of some of the people near them, but they quickly looked away when they saw it was just two little boys talking at a table. _They must be waiting for their mothers, _they thought.

"The Dark Lord?" Harry pressed, when the darker boy did not go on.

"He is um, this, dark lord. He has a name, but you are not supposed to say it because it e-is cursed. And because it is more respectful to say 'The Dark Lord'. He had followers and everything, and he was trying to get rid of the muggles and mud-muggleborns and started a war, and people did not like that, so he went after them. The papers and people say he went after your parents on Hallow's Eve five years ago, and they... got killed. But you survived and defeated him supposedly." Blaise tumbled out, acting as though he didn't want to talk of it. He crossed his arms, frowning and still gazing at that damnable shelf above Harry's shoulder. Harry could see why, what with how the man sounded. This Dark Lord sounded like one of the bad people that had been mentioned in one of the books he had read- Hiller, or Hiter, he thinks. But with the way he was talking before, wouldn't he agree with this Dark Lord? And furthermore..

"My aunt told me my parents died in a drunken car crash, though!" Harry exclaimed, nearly jumping up.

Blaise startled, and held his hands up in a pacifying gesture. "No, not a car, calm down-what is a car? And I told you not to listen to your muggle relatives. Your parents got killed in the war. Not... sorry. I think I just realised what I was saying. Spiacente*." Blaise trailed off, blushing. The two of them settled back in, refusing to glance at each other. "You... you really do not know anything. You do not know enough." Blaise muttered, furrowing his brows. The two of them sat in silence, not wanting to talk; Blaise was thinking, and Harry was too overwhelmed. His head was swirling with information he could hardly believe. Magic was real, his parents didn't die drunk in a car, he was a _wizard_... But it was believable, in a way. It explained all the weird incidents, the feeling of his relatives hiding something, even how people came up to him in the street sometimes! _But_, Harry thought with his good mood deflating, _they would never let me get a wand or go to a magic school. They wouldn't want to waste money on me._

"Boys." A voice said from behind Harry suddenly. He jumped, and whirled around in his seat to see the woman from before, who surely must have been Blaise's mother from how alike each other they were. She was smiling slightly, in a way that might have meant she was hiding a bigger one or putting them at ease. "I see you have been playing nice together. Buono." The two of them nodded, although not much of their conversation could be called more than confusing. Ms. Zabini's (for Harry could only assume her last name was Zabini) smile seemed to sharpen, and she peered down at Harry from where she stood. "You know, Mr. Potter, my little bambino has tutoring sessions with a local wizard in a town near here. Maybe you two could, ah, meet sometime to talk again?"

Harry was stunned stupid. This woman actually wanted him near her son? Usually people tried to shoo him away because of what the Dursleys said! The one time he went against them, he might have actually made a friend! What a turnout! He nodded his head vigorously, beaming at her. He didn't see it, but behind him, Blaise was nodding as well, a determined look on his face and mouthing something at his mother. Nicola Zabini, who was standing in front of both of them, saw both and internally cheered. Maybe if these two grew close, her son would stop listening to every little word Malfoy's boy spewed. And maybe the Potter boy would shape up. It was obvious to anyone who looked close that there was something off about him.

Harry would have said something more, but as he was looking up at Ms. Zabini, he saw there was a clock on the wall. Shelf. Whatever. Normally, this wouldn't have alarmed him at all because a clock being hanged somewhere is completely reasonable, but the clock itself read that it was ten past 3 o'clock in the afternoon. It had to have been an almost an hour since he had come in here! What if the Dursleys had left the store and found he wasn't there? He jumped to his feet, panicking, and started to dash down the aisles before skidding to a stop and turning to the Zabinis.

"I'm sorry Ms. Zabini and Blaise, but I have to go my relatives are expecting me and I'd love to see you again but I've really got to go I'm sorry!" He rushed out. After that, he dashed out of the store, leaving the two Zabinis to blink after him.

It turns out, when he crossed the street and reached the store panting, the Dursleys had just made it to the cash register. He near cried with relief, and plopped back down onto his perch, smiling goofily and swinging his legs like a buffoon. Too bad Dudley was watching him run.

* * *

Harry was punished long and hard for not obeying Uncle Vernon's orders. When he wasn't at school, doing chores, or managing to hide from Dudley's gang of tiny riff-raff, he was locked in his cupboard for hours on end. The first few days after the outing, he couldn't even sit right with how hard Uncle Vernon had gotten him with the belt. Usually, Harry would have taken this with the endurance and resignation of a man going to his execution, but this time he was angry. He had lived with them for five years, and they had lied to him the whole time- they hadn't told him he had magic, or that his parents were war veterans, or anything like that! He had a right to know these sort of things, especially when they could affect his life like this thank-you-very-much!

What right had they to call him a freak when he just had magic? And he knew by now that was the only reason why they called him that. After the day in the bookstore and the subsequent lock-ins in the cupboard, he had turned over again and again the ways the Dursleys treated him and what they said. How they would beat him at the slightest oddity or yell at a smidge of a mistake. How Aunt Petunia refused to look at him sometimes, and how Uncle Vernon got this glint in his eye sometimes that Harry had only seen reflected back at him in the mirror. When he thought of it, the only differences between them and him was that he had magic, did work around the house, and didn't look like a horse, walrus, or giant pig. All the other children in school were like him too, if just a bit louder and rounder. So how was he a freak?

These thoughts went through his mind multiple times during the punishments. Going over them fueled his anger, and let him focus on something more than the pain or the darkness. It was a new way for him to cope. It was invigorating.

Of course, that didn't change his behavior in school or at home. He knew that if he started talking about any of the things he had learned in either place, he'd be called crazy or get the thrashing of his life. And if he acted different than how he usually did, the teachers would wonder if something was wrong, and call the Dursleys. So he laid low and let his mood stew in his head, not noticing the effect of it. Around his school, things would randomly fall down, and food would start to rot. At the house, the weeds would shrivel when he touched them. It wasn't much, but it was enough. A sign.

And then the stewing broke like a bad fever around the end of June.

Aunt Petunia had dragged Harry out of the house and into the town for birthday shopping, as she seemed to think he would burn it down if he was alone. So he was once again standing outside a store (which was quite stupid of her considering last time, no?) as she shopped for toys that would ultimately break in pudgy, pink hands. He was _once again _people watching, but it was much more boring in Little Whinging than it was in London. Everyone here was the same shade of person; normal, perfect-on-the-surface housewives, or snotty children and businessmen. He probably would have started dozing where he was standing if it weren't for someone suddenly shouting his name and running into his bruised shoulder.

He nearly yelped, but simply flinched and kept it in. No need to draw more attention to him, or it. Whoever had run into him was now running their mouth faster than a race car, and clutching his arm tightly, as if to keep him there. He could hear the thick there-but-not-there accent in the voice, one that he recognised instantly, and quickly looked over. To his all-encompassing surprise, it was Blaise, frowning, and staring at Harry like a kicked puppy. Paying attention to the other boy, he finally realised what he was saying.

"-nd I tried to catch you but you disappeared and my mum was actually worried and you- you never even owled me! I do not know if you have one, but you could have done _something_!" Blaise finished. Harry blinked, not really believing the boy was here- because how many towns really surround London?- and slowly responded.

"My relatives wouldn't have let me if I could. Your tutor's in Little Whinging?" Glancing behind Blaise, he could actually see who must have been his tutor. He was a short man, no taller than 5'5, who had brown hair slicked back. He was staring at the boys with a bemused look on his face, and was lighting a pipe. Harry thought he sort-of looked to one of those mafia people he had glanced at on the tellie.

"Upper Whinging, but that is not important! You must live around here which means I can come and see you and teach you about the wizarding world and make sure you are not a complete idiot by the time we go to Hogwarts! Right, Mr. Smith?" The now named Mr. Smith nodded his head, grinning and waving a hand.

"Your ma paid me ta teach you, kid. And this will certainly be a... learning experience. Tell me Mr. Potter, what are ya doing out here in the street? Ya trying ta rack up a few coins?" His eyes raked him up and down as he said this, but Harry shook his head, now more wary than shocked. Did everyone know his name? First Blaise and Ms. Zabini, and now this man? He jabbed a finger towards the store, and the two other wizards peered inside and saw the sight of Aunt Petunia arguing with another woman over something near the front. Probably an action figure or video game, considering "Little Diddydums'" tastes. Mr. Smith cackled at the sight, making a few passersby stare, while Blaise's face scrunched up in disgust.

"Is that your _aunt_? She looks like a HORSE, Harry!" At that, Harry giggled and Mr. Smith cackled even louder, bending over from how hard he was laughing. " What?" Blaise huffed, "She does! Besides, that is not important! Where are we going to meet up? How about my tutoring place- it is safe, and we can talk easily!" Mr. Smith grunted, and dropped his hand on Blaise's head.

"No can do, kiddo. With how much magic is in that place, people are bound ta pick somethin' up on ol' Harry here. You they expect. Not him. Not ta mention I can't exactly go kidnappin' a munchkin every so often for your playdates." He got out from around his pipe. Harry's giggling slowed to a stop as he considered it. There was no way they could meet up at his house like Piers and Dudley did, and according to Mr. Smith, there was no way he could go over to wherever Blaise had his lessons. _Maybe the playground? _He wondered. _No, that wouldn't be good. Dudley and the others might spot us, and make Blaise not come near me anymore. _But Dudley would be everywhere, he thought gloomily. During the summer, Dudley and his gang wandered everywhere around the neighborhood, taking kids' ice cream money or chasing them down. He was a delinquent in the making.

So the only place they could really meet was the playground. Harry both wanted to risk it and not, simply because this was his first maybe-friend. Was it worth the chance he may not want to be maybe-friends with Harry anymore if they met Dudley?

...Yes.

"There's a playground near my house. It's down Magnolia Road, and no one really goes there." He said hesitantly. There was no telling what would happen if Dudley, or Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon found out about any of this. But right now, he can't say he particularly cared about that. Blaise grinned, an unrestrained one full of excitement.

"Wicked! We can meet up in the afternoons- that is when my lessons end, and mama will not mind me staying a bit longer to meet up with you." Harry gave him a grin in return, the excitement contagious. "Maybe I can show you some of the nice stuff I have, like a broom and one of my books! I know muggle books do not have moving pictures or talking paintings- which is really _weird_ Harry, I do not understand-" Mr. Smith cleared his throat at this point, interrupting Blaise and catching their attention. When they both stared at him, he pointed at the store window with the bemused expression still on his face. Looking in, Harry could see that his aunt was just finishing her purchases- and by purchases, he meant veritable mountain of things that would very soon be broken. He would have panicked if it weren't for the tingles of excitement still in him.

"You two want to go, she won't be happy if she sees me talking to someone." Harry said, frowning. Blaise blinked at him in confusion, and looked like he was about to ask something if it weren't for Mr. Smith placing a hand on his shoulder. Mr. Smith was smiling again, but this time it seemed different, tightly-wound somehow.

"C'mon now tiny Zabini, I'm sure Harry's aunt is just very, very protective. Let's go before she thinks I'mma child-snatcher, hmm?" Blaise looked put-out, but didn't put up a fight. The two of them said their goodbyes, and with another glance at the window, Mr. Smith started guiding him down the street. Aunt Petunia came out not a minute later, thrusting her bags into Harry's arms for him to carry back to the house. He sighed, but started his trek, trying o find the other two into the crowd as they disappeared.

* * *

It had gone -_very surprisingly_- well the first time they met up on the playground. It had been about a week after they had met, and Harry had been keeping an eye on it. Once he had gotten home, he had realised too late that they had never agreed on a time, and decided to pop over whenever he could to see if they were there. A Friday after his chores, he had dashed over, and there they were. When Harry arrived, he was surprised to see Mr. Smith delightedly swinging on one of the rusty old sets put around the park. Blaise was watching him strangely from the side, seating on a bench. When Harry cleared his throat, they both jumped and turned towards him.

"Harry!" Blaise called, rushing over to the smaller boy's side. He snatched his arm and tugged him over the bench, already rambling. "I am surprised we caught you- Mr. Smith have-has been checking the past two days to see if you were here since we forgot to say a time- mi dispiace*- and he took me today since I wanted to come along. You will not believe the things I brought to show you!" They reached the bench, and Blaise pulled up an unobtrusive bag that had been leaning against its side. He dug his hand in and rummaged around, completely oblivious to Harry's gaping face as he stuck his whole arm in a bag that wouldn't be able to properly hold a history textbook. Blaise whooped in triumph and pulled out what, for all sakes and appearances, looked like nothing more than a tiny, clear top. He grinned at Harry expectantly as the other boy just gave him a blank look.

"Blaise, I have no idea what this is."

...

"Oh yeah. WELL, it is called a sneakoscope, and it is meant to give off a whistling sound when someone untrustworthy is around. you put it on a flat surface, like this, and..." As Blaise set it down on a small space of bench, the sneakoscope immediately started to go off, startling the two boys. They glanced at each other, wide-eyed, before Mr. Smith called from his place swinging.

"Don't worry too much boys- it always does that when I'm smoozing around! Just put it away!" Harry peered over to still see the man swinging in an overly delighted way, and glanced towards Blaise again, silently asking _What? What? _Blaise could only shake his head, replying _I unno man my mama hired him not me._ Complying with Mr. Smith's advice, Blaise replaced the sneakoscope in his bag, rummaging around again.

Next, he pulled out a fairly thin book with a colourful cover. "I know muggles do not make moving picture books, so I brought one with me." Blaise explained, turning it towards Harry. It was titled _The Mage Who Painted the Night_. "It is very old- my mama bought it when I was little, but I still like it." He said, rubbing the edge of the binding. Harry nodded, focused on the cover. There was a small man on it, riding a broom and holding a stick- a wand? The wand was casting some spell, and spreading beautiful blues and greens and purples across the sky. But Blaise was right- the picture certainly was moving. The colours shimmered and fluctuated, making a sea of cool tones; the mage was waving his wand back and forth from his seat on the broom, sparks shooting out occasionally. It was amazing. He leaned in closer, trying to get a better look; above him, Blaise smiled at his awe.

"The book is about a mage who lived with a bleak black and white sky, and decided to change it- here, let me show you..." They spent the next while perusing the book while Harry stared at the pictures. Blaise had to explain what a mage was and that yes wizards really did ride brooms and that some people had familiars as pets, but both immensely enjoyed going through the picture book.

The afternoon had gone much in the same vein of this, Blaise pulling something out of his impossi-bag, Harry goggling over it, and Blaise excitedly explaining what it was supposed to do. By the end of it, Harry had learned what remembralls, probity probes, omniculars, and acid pops were. They confused and intrigued him to no end, and he insisted on prodding (or tasting) each one.

Mr. Smith had ambled on over after about two hours and told them that Blaise had to head home before his mother pitched a fit. So they said their goodbyes and agreed to meet up about every other weekday. And they in fact did, even when Harry went back to primary school in the fall. Over these meetings, he learned more about the wizarding world, more about the war- although any information on that was limited due to their age- and argued with Blaise over certain aspects of what he said. That always seemed to make Mr. Smith cackle particularly loud.

One afternoon, near the end of October, Harry was heading back home to Number 4, which was only a few blocks away. He would say the Dursleys had noticed he was gone, but no one was even home. Uncle Vernon was at work, Dudley with his friends as usual after school, and Aunt Petunia at some neighbor's house. It seemed Aunt Petunia had thought he'd take the whole 3 1/2 hours to clean the windows. The thought of that filled him with something, but he couldn't tell if it was irritation or relief.

So until about the time he had to start putting the roast into the oven, Harry had the house to himself. He didn't watch the tellie and read, since the tellie reminded him of Dudley, who would sit for hours in front of it with drool dropping form the corner of his mouth, and the only books in the living room were too wordy. He did, however, try something he had been doing for weeks.

He had thought again over what Blaise had told him the first day, of how children accidentally perform magic when they were younger, and wondered why it couldn't be purposeful. If they could do it with an absent thought, why not with a focused one? So for the past two weeks and so, he had been trying very_, very _hard to try and make the toaster in the kitchen levitate. Every morning when he was making the Dursleys breakfast, if he wasn't using it that day, he'd sit while the bacon or eggs or something else was cooking and would stare at the toaster and yell in his mind _FLOAT, TOASTER!_

It hadn't worked yet, but he thought he just wasn't putting enough power into it. Or maybe he should try a different method? He had enough time today to try out some of the other methods he had been thinking of. Going into the kitchen, he settled in front of the toaster and pondered for a bit. If the mind shouting wouldn't work, maybe he needed to actually say it?

Looking determinedly at the toaster (which is indeed a strange sentence), Harry loudly said "Float!" Predictably, the toaster didn't move a damn inch. So he tried again. And again. And again. Each time, his frustration with it and his theory grew, and finally he threw up his arms in anger and yelled "FLOAT!" at the top of his lungs. At that outburst, a strange feeling went through Harry, almost as though water were going across his arm. A second later, the toaster zipped up, crashing into the ceiling and nearly making a dent. Harry gaped at where it had hit the ceiling, almost not believing it finally worked! After weeks of sitting there and thinking, it finally worked! But, that made him pause. Just why had it worked? It hadn't moved when he had been saying it. So...

Trembling with excitement, Harry raised his arm and willed for it to levitate, quietly thinking _float_. And slowly, almost jerkily, as though it didn't want to obey, the toaster raised to where his arm was held. A grin spread itself across Harry's face, even as he swayed unsteadily and felt an empty feeling in his chest.

* * *

By the time Blaise and Harry were nine, they had moved on from the impromptu lessons Harry had been given- along with Blaise's actual ones; Mr. Smith simply brought Blaise there now instead of teaching him. They had been meeting for around three years, and had managed to develop a system. Whenever Dudley or one of his gang came nearby, they would hide in the bushes and wait for them to leave. If one of the neighbors came near, Mr. Smith would do something to make himself invisible until they passed. Nowadays, they simply talked about what had been happening at Harry's school, or what Draco Malfoy was whining about now, or how bad the Dursleys were getting.

But then the social worker had come by.

It was a Friday, and would have been a damn fine Friday if it weren't for Dudley pushing Harry hard enough to send him toppling from his swing onto the ground. The hard-packed, dirt ground that felt harder than cement sometimes to the young boy. Face first.

He ended up with a broken nose, which ended up making him have to go to the nurses' office and Dudley getting a very harsh slap on the wrist for "rough-housing". Which ended up with the nurse asking Harry just why he was so small and why he wouldn't relax against the chair at all during his examination of the break and look-over of the young boy. About several lousy excuses later for his various injuries, the nurse let it go with a suspicious stare and a _crack! _from his reset nose.

He thought it was all fine and dandy, since the nurse had apparently dropped the topic and released him. He went about his normal Friday business, finishing classes and then going to have a emotions-jam session with Blaise (and technically Mr. Smith, who seemed to delight in randomly breaking into their conversations to say an off-putting remark). Harry complained and raged about his nose, and Mr. Smith graciously fixed the rest of it up, vanishing any remaining aches. Blaise whined about the other pureblooded brats, who were apparently getting on his nerves more often due to their clinginess and questions. He went home around 4 o' clock to give himself enough time to check over the garden and start dinner. None of the Dursleys cared, and they didn't care when he did much the same thing the next two days, as was the modus operandi by now. It was until the next Tuesday that he got the slightest inkling that something might have gone down.

His teacher, a Mr. Delwyn Bowman who was an excitable and child-loving man, would not stop _watching _him during class. And lunch. And recess. Like, creepy _let-me-into-your-broken-soul _staring. It unnerved Harry to no end, but when he glared at him, the teacher just frowned and stopped. For a few minutes. At the end of the day, he saw Mr. Bowman talking to some random woman outside the school. They kept glancing to his classroom, where everyone was packing up. After some resolution, the woman sighed and nodded her head. _Should I be worried about this? I feel like I'm about to get kidnapped. _Harry bewilderingly thought. As he was leaving the classroom, the two adults approached him from where the teacher had been greeting the parents collecting their tiny brats.

"Harry, this is Mrs. Nitika. She needs to have a word with your aunt and uncle, so she'll be walking home with you. Is that alright?" Mr. Bowman kindly asked, smiling in a desperate way that even Harry could see. The woman- Nikita, apparently- looked close to pinching Harry's teacher, but nodded her head in agreement and smiled as well. Harry was an inch from hightailing it and camouflaging himself so they couldn't find him.

"Um... I suppose. I'm not in trouble, am I Mr. Bowman?" The man's eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically.

"No, no, nothing of the sort! The school just needs to clear a few matters up with them. Don't worry Harry, you're perfectly fine- a model student, I'd say." Harry sighed, and took what he said at face-value for now. Offering his hand to Mrs. Nikita, they slowly walked to Number 4, Harry lamenting his lost hours to relax in the playground. All the while, Mrs. Nikita asked very strange questions that were frankly nerve-wracking.

"How do you like it at home, Harrison?"

"Do the Dursleys have much money?"

"Do they feed you enough?"

"Do they ever treat your cousin nicer than you?"

"Are you happy with your aunt and uncle?"

Harry tried his best to evade her questions, but he felt he had done a poor job by the end of it. The woman had a scowl on her face, and looked ready to strike out. "I- I'm sorry if I haven't answered well enough, ma'am." He meekly said, shrinking away from her. Her eyes snapped to him and widened in alarm.

"Oh, no, it is not you Harry. Something's just on my mind right now. Is this your house?" Harry nodded. They had finally arrived at Number 4.

What followed could be called the worst cover-up of abuse in history, or the best form of revenge that Harry would get in a long while. When the Dursleys had opened the door and seen the Mrs. Nikita standing there with him, they had first blustered about, thanking her for finding their wayward nephew because oh-he-just-loved-to-wander-about-and-cause-trouble; then, when she had told them that no, she had not found Harry cavorting around the neighborhood, and was in fact sent by the school for a household check-up, they had exploded. Vernon was viciously denying that anything wrong had been done to Harry, while Petunia was covertly slapping him and trying to explain all the "good" they did for Harry. The woman- who turned out to be a social worker, as Harry worked out eventually- was guided around the house as per request, shown the guest room, dining room, parents' room, and Dudley's two bedrooms. The Dursleys insisted that he slept in Dudley's second room, but due to the fact there was no bed, it seemed more harmful than helpful. Any chance of tricking her had, of course, fallen apart completely when Mrs. Nikita had asked Harry to show her where he slept; when he had pointed to the cupboard, all three adults had gone deathly quiet, and Mrs. Nikita had a snarl forming. She slowly and quietly opened the door, peered inside, and carefully gazed at the various pictures, books, and trinkets Harry had stolen or been given over the years. Finally, she turned around and closed it with her foot, never breaking eye contact with the Dursleys. She spoke in a quiet, rough voice, as though she wanted to growl instead of speak.

"I think I have enough evidence, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. After interviews of Harrison's former and current teachers, who have _all_ said that he has worn practical _rags _every_ year,_ constantly looks _starved_,and is _bullied_ by his cousin, the situation was suspicious. After a mere fourth-year boy had his nose _broken_ from falling onto the dirt- which should not be _possible_ unless his body is unnecessarily weak or malnourished- and tried to _lie_ to his nurse that his back was just sore from leaning over his books all day despite constant wincing, the situation was _precarious_. After having a nine-year old attempt to lie and evade simple questions about his home life from me, and learning that he lives in a s_āpa alamārī*__, the situation became dangerous. _You will be lucky if you are _not_ sent to jail for this- although you undoubtedly _will be_, from what I have seen and from what I will ensure. Harrison will be removed as soon as possible, and you locked behind bars." She hissed, glaring daggers at the two adults sweating bullets in front of her. Harry was staring wide-eyed at it all, jaw dropped. Just- **_what_**?

Mrs. Nikita stiffly walked to the door, appearing as if she wanted to do nothing more than stay and hurl a few sharp objects at the Durlseys heads. As she gripped the doorknob, she turned back to them, and said in a flat, uncompromising tone,

"If anything is done to Harrison, the school staff will know. They have been ordered-no, that's stretching the word isn't it?" She asked, smiling unpleasantly. "They have _volunteered_ to watch Harrison for any discrepancies, to see if you have been doing anything harmful to his person. While we certainly have plentiful evidence to that, they will be keeping a watchful eye until, and only until, he is removed from your home. We will know if you decide to "punish" him. Harrison," She said, looking down at him with a farm more pleasant and gentler expression, "Please do not hesitate to tell your teacher if something happens. We don't want you to be hurt, little one." With that, she calmly opened the door and slammed it as hard as she could, hardly letting Harry catch a glimpse of Dudley approaching the house with his gang.

They all stood there in perhaps the worst tension-filled, awkward silence to occur, staring blankly at the door. Harry was the first to snap out of it, slowly turning to look at the two adults. Vernon's face was a startling, dark purple, and he was visibly shaking. Petunia had gone pale as swiss, and was rubbing her arms like nobody's business.

"Vernon..." She shakily whispered. She only got a choked grunt in return, and watched in stunned horror as Vernon swept Harry up into the kitchen, grabbing the cane along the way. The warnings of Mrs. Nikita were ignored point-blank in the favour of rage.

Harry could hardly stand that night. Vernon still made him cook, hovering over his whole shoulder the whole time and whacking him when he did something slightly wrong. He almost went at him with the cane again when he sliced through his ring finger right over the chicken for the night. But Petunia swept in, and shoved him in the bathroom where she sat him on the tub and pulled out the first-aid kit. Harry watched her through a haze of pain and teared eyes as she examined his finger. She hadn't stopped shaking, and had taken to muttering since this afternoon.

At one point, when she was snipping off the dying appendage and clumsily trying to cauterize the stump left behind in favour of going to a hospital and being arrested on site, he thought he could make out what she said.

"This has all gone too far."

* * *

Blaise and Mr. Smith had heartily tackled and questioned him the following Friday. When he held up his bandaged hand in a silent response, Blaise had stared blankly, his mind not processing it.

"Holy shit." Mr. Smith muttered, his fully processing it and fully enraged at the implications. "Kid-P-_Harry-_just- what _happened_?"

Harry weakly shrugged, refusing to meet either of their gazes. "The school thought the Dursleys weren't treating me well. Uncle Vernon wasn't happy when they sent someone home with me."

"Il mio Dio- so that pompinara cut off your finger!?" Blaise yelled, catching up. Mr. Smith smacked him across the back of the head, and Harry gave him a look of horror.

"N-no! My hand was shaking when I was making d-dinner and I slipped. Badly. Aunt Petunia was scared to take me to the hospital." Harry frantically corrected, backing away a bit. Mr. Smith still gave him a flat look.

"Kid, that still raises questions. And reasons for _bodily harm_, in fact. One, why was a munchkin like youse makin' dinner? Two, would would ya aunt not take you ta the hospital when your _finger's_ just been cut off, and three, why were ya shakin' so bad _you cut your finger off_?" Harry gave him a hopeless look, trying to think of what to say. Blaise had taken hold of his hand and was inspecting the bandages on it, too scared to really prod or examine it.

"I..." He trailed off, looking between their faces.

"C'mon kiddo," Mr. Smith said, grabbing hold of his shoulders, "You gotta tell us. Or me, since I am the adult. Losing a finger and doing dinner at nine ain't a good thing- looking how you _do _isn't a good thing at any age. _Please_. Do ya really want this to happen again?" The normally immature man was dead-serious now, frowning with every wrinkle creased in worry. Harry was speechless.

"I... it...it started with making breakfast." Harry whispered. He went from there, talking about how he had to cook and clean, and how Dudley constantly chased him down to hurt him. How they would make him tend the garden. How Marge would have her bulldogs rip after him when she visited. How Vernon loved his belt and cane, and how Petunia would ignore it all as if she was above it or act like it was the natural order of life. How it was an honest miracle he met them, and that he had gotten beaten bad the day Blaise and Harry had first met.

When he finished up recounting a less messy version of Wednesday, Blaise was shaking and Mr. Smith had his hand over his eyes.

"God... Fuck... I knew I was right listening ta Nicola. Cause of this shit. This sort of shit and the shit the ministry puts you through to fix it. God, _why_ do I teach?" Smith muttered under his breath, clenching his free hand. Harry chose to not try and figure out what he meant as Blaise clutched at him and buried his head in his shoulder. Harry silently tried to calm the other boy down, commanding a weak _relax _from time to time. It seemed to have worked, as the other boy pulled back from shoulder, frowning with folded arms.

"Smith." He said suddenly, glancing to the man beside him. "We've got to do something. We can't just leave Harry with those _muggles_." Mr. Smith barked out a harsh laugh, and peered at Blaise from under his hand.

"Kid, ya can't do shit. You're just some minor who likes to have little playdates with all his tiny friends. But... I'll discuss it with ya mom, and we'll see if we can't get someone sent out. I'm sorry Harry," He said, turning unusually-somber eyes towards Harry, "But it's gonna take a while to get ya. The ministry's about as useful and cooperative as a red cap on cocaine. And those things are damn useless sober. Y-ya do want to get out don't ya?" He asked, taking on a tense expression. Harry hesitated, but vigorously nodded his head.

"But- is it- is it safe to tell anyone? I don't want to end up splashed across papers or-or harassed. And I don't want to end up in a worse situation- do we really have to tell anyone?" Mr. Smith gave him a tired smile, and didn't answer. They sat in silence for the rest of the time.

* * *

Mr. Smith didn't report anything of his attempts to rally the ministry into action. When Harry hinted at it, the short man had gotten a peculiar expression on his face, and muttered something that may have been "muggles" or "whumper". Harry honestly had no idea how those were related, but was a bit scared to ask.

The school hadn't contacted the Dursleys again either, and when Harry asked Mr. Bowman about Mrs. Nikita, his teacher had given him a strange look and asked him just who Mrs. Nikita was. Harry didn't mention it again. He had long decided his situation was an unsalvagable one, and wasn't as disappointed as he should have been at two failures. He simply went on with life.

Currently, he was talking to Blaise about a recurring problem the Italian boy seemed to have nowadays.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to tell them, Harry. I can't exactly say to them 'Oh, it's Harry Potter the-boy-who-lived I've been making friendly with for three years'! They're still under the delusion that you're either horrid or someone to use because of their parents! Hell, they still think that anyone below pureblood is trash- don't give me that look, I had to cave in after three years of your moral rants- and I don't want them near you, they might spoil you or-or take you away! You'll talk to me less!" Blaise complained, tugging on the other boy's arm. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. They had argued about this a dozen times over; Harry hardly saw a problem with it, and Blaise refused to not see it. It was enough to grate on a person's nerves. But then, Harry had been entertaining an idea, one that probably could have been used at the start.

"Well, why don't you give them a fake name? They won't be able to connect the "boy-who-lived" to a false name. You could even make it something pompous, I know they eat that up." He said, sliding his arm out of the boy's grip. Blaise looked thoughtful at that, and they could both hear Mr. Smith snickering in the background. Sometimes, Harry swore the man was drunk. Or insane; both words could work.

"But what do we call you though? If we go with star names, they might connect you to the Blacks, and if we go with common names, they'll assume you're muggleborn or half-blood. No offense." He said, glancing over to Harry. Harry waved it away and thought it over himself. He didn't want something that would sound stupid, but he didn't want to go with something utterly common either. The three of them sat in silence, two of them searching for names.

"...What about Augustus?" Harry finally said. "I read about him in one of the history books at the library- he was the first emperor of the Roman Empire, and he brought about the Pax Romana, The Roman Peace. I think you've actually mentioned a statue of him or something that used to be near your house?" It had been a thick book on Roman history that Harry read, and had talked about famous emperors of the Empire such as Julius Caesar, Augustus, and Caligula. The thought of Caligula made Harry shiver a little in disgust. No man should be having children with his _sister _of all people.

"That's a little arrogant, don't you think?" Blaise asked, smirking. Harry shrugged, and sent him a tiny smirk of his own.

"I _think_ I can be afford to be a little arrogant when you want to just trick some kids. If they want a last name, you can just give them Evans. Say I was adopted or something." The other boy nodded in agreement, and they moved on to arguing over whether or not gobstones or exploding snap was better.

* * *

On the morning of July 31st, 1991, Harry was forced to go get the mail by a lazy Vernon and bratty Dudley. When he searched the pile of envelopes to see if there was anything interesting, he found a thick, textured envelope with _To Harry Potter, Cupboard Under the Stairs, Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging _written on it in green ink. After dancing in one spot and stuffing it into his over-sized trousers, he quickly walked back into the kitchen and handed the mail to Vernon as though it had never appeared.

* * *

So! Second chapter! Lot longer, with time-skips galore because some things in the scheme need to be set! I didn't want to just rush into Hogwarts and then have things become confusing because this or that wasn't talked about earlier. Not to mention it would be a little jarring to jump five years right in the beginning. o-o I'm planning to have an update schedule of a chapter by a week at the most time-wise, unless things come up.

mi dispiace- my fault/sorry, informal

spiacente- sorry, formal, like "Oh I have made a mistake I am sorry for overstepping the bounds"

s_āpa alamārī - _damned cabinet- hindi, not italian haha

Pompinara- cock sucker ;)

il mio Dio- my god

So, reviews answering time haha!

**Spirit Wolf 16 - **Gurl, you and I both already hashed this out over three times, no need to say anything.

**dianaanne **- Thank you! I hope I can keep up the quality level or make it better as I go along. ouo

**Ina Bauer **- Thank you! And yeah, there's not much of a point hiding it since it's one of "THOSE STORIES", Harry's gonna get away from the Dursleys. And while I don't like Dumbledore either, I wasn't going to make him one of the 'totally-evil goat lover' stereotypes you can find in things. He strikes me as more of just morally negligent, y'know? The Weasleys, Sirius, and Remus are... spoilery challenges.

**Sazq** - Would you find it funny if I actually admitted the "How" of the story was inspired by Elder Scrolls? I got a lot of the 'absorbing magic' idea from the effects you get when you choose the Atronach sign in Oblivion (although i certainly pulled more from a comic based on them called Prequel than the actual games).


	3. In Which the Well Overflows

As usual, AN and replies at bottom. I should probably put this in too: I don't own _Harry Potter, _and certain parts such as the Hogwarts letter and Gringotts motto have been scripted directly from the book, and belong to JK Rowling. This was written between bursts of online shopping, yelling at a cat, and cursing bikes everywhere. PLEASE R&R! ouo

**EDITED FOR SMOOTHNESS 28.9.14**

* * *

Harry didn't know what to do.

Blaise wasn't here to help him with this, and he wasn't able to even speak to him until the 1st of September at the earliest. Being the pucker head that past Harry was, he had refused to talk about Hogwarts due to the inevitable, resounding _hell no _the Dursleys would give in response to it. Harry didn't even have an owl to tell one of his wizarding buddies (AKA a sarcastic Italian boy and suspicious yankee from Dutch County). Of course, before he got ahead of himself, he should probably open the letter first like a sensible person.

Harry was currently sitting in his cupboard where he was sentenced to stay until Aunt Petunia deemed it hot enough to make him go tend to the garden. Or at least, that's what he thought. For all he knew, he could be stuck in here until dinner; wouldn't that be delightful?

He was sitting on his dingy excuse for a bed, and in his hands was the fated letter from Hogwarts. Blaise had told him about it and the school in the beginning, talking about the classes and lake. His parents had supposedly gone there, and been sorted into Gryffindor. He would have wondered where he would end up, but he was more absorbed in ogling the letter and not caring about extremely biased groups of children. The envelope was made out of thick parchment (as was the its contents, he soon discovered), and written on with green ink. That made him a wonder a bit, since it certainly didn't look like it was written with a pen. Maybe they used some special tool? He couldn't remember specifics.

Opening it with shaking hands, Harry pulled out two pieces of parchment. One of them seemed to be a list, while the other was an actual letter. Reading it, Harry felt a bit skeptical. At the very top of the letter was a list of titles the headmaster had -some man named Albus Dumbledore, hadn't he heard that name before?- , which seemed superfluous more than anything. What child needed to know the titles of a man who wasn't even going to be teaching them? He didn't even _know _what a "Supreme Mugwump" was! The letter itself read as follows:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl no later than July 31st._

_Yours sincerely,_

_ Minerva McGonagall,_

_ Deputy Headmistress_

Absentmindedly, Harry paid a few thoughts to the name's Roman counterpart because _wow it's such a more sensible name than Dumbledore or Wulfric_, then moved on to the bigger problem. The school indeed needed a response, and he was certain there were no post owls around Privet Drive. Not with how spick-and-span the neighborhood was- no wizard or witch would willingly live here. So how the bloody hell was he going to send a response _by the end of the day? _And who's bright idea was it to send this off the day a response is due? He was disgruntled, but probably would have started to read the supplies list if not for a loud rapping against the cupboard's door.

"Boy! Get out of there and go trim the garden! You can be lazy on your own time!" Ah yes, the call of the horse. It seems it was sufficiently blazing to send him out now. He shoved the letter under the mattress (although the Dursleys would never come in here) and opened the tiny door. Aunt Petunia was standing on the other side as expected, staring at him as though he were a small dog she was torn between kicking or feeling sorry for. He glared at her, but quickly trudged to the front door, as dawdling wouldn't help his back later on. He was about to slip on the hand-me-down sneakers he had, but a quick glance out the window made him freeze. A barn owl, big and beautiful, was sitting on the stop sign across the pavement. That particular stop sign had been put there by vandals playing a prank on Hallow's Eve, and for some reason, the city council had yet to move it. It was staring at the house and seemed almost... patient?

Harry was certain it was the one who delivered his letter.

He raced back to his cupboard, narrowly avoiding Petunia (who was walking into the kitchen to spy at neighbors through the window), and dove towards the shelves that were housed right about his "bed". On it were random things he had stolen over the years, including an action-figure Dudley had broken, a book the library was about to throw out called _The Count of Monte Cristo _that he had yet to get through, and old school supplies teachers had generously given him. Among those were dull pencils and pieces of paper. He had his chance, and he wasn't going to waste it. Snatching a few pieces of lined paper and the sharpest pencil he could see, he shoved them into the waist of his trousers and raced back to the front door with a bang of the closing cupboard. As he walked out, he was grinning from ear to ear.

Harry waited a while before he wrote a response. He knew from experience that no one would be watching him while he worked, not really, but it still helped to be cautious. You can never know when a neighbor decides to peek over at the "Delinquent Orphan" of Privet Drive, and sees him scribbling a message for an owl of all things. He didn't want to even think of what would happen when the Dursleys heard that sort of thing in gossip. Or about the fact he was known as a delinquent orphan- why did he have to live in a neighborhood of such horrible people? The only decent one around there was Mrs. Figg, and that was mostly because she knew who he really was and had nice animals. Her cats and kneazles, while annoying when mobbing you all at once, were nothing like Marge's bulldogs.

But that wasn't important. What was important was weeding this garden and trimming its bushes as quick as he could, and penning his response letter. Walking to the back of the house, Harry rummaged through the tool shack nestled in the corner of the yard. He quickly grabbed two pairs of gloves, hedge trimmers, and a bucket. He always enjoyed this part, even if it made him exhausted.

Running back to the garden, he sat the bucket down and grabbed the pairs of gloves, one in each hand. Concentrating, he listened to his heartbeat and the movement of his blood. He focused on them, flicking both hands and commanding _listen._ A feeling close to sparks drifting across skin went down his arms, and he dropped the gloves. He started to feel drained, but he ignored it and stared down at the gloves in wait.

Slowly, near unnoticeable at first, the fingers of them started to twitch, and then twist, until they stiffly lifted themselves from the ground and turned towards Harry. He smiled, and kindly whispered, "Pull out the weeds and put them in the bucket, and then water the flowers with a hose. Stop if anyone comes near." to them. One pair started immediately on the weeds, racing towards the garden bed and looking much like Thing from the Addams Family. The other shoved the bucket closer, and more in front of Harry._ How dutiful they are, _Harry thought fondly. He had been doing this since he was around seven, and it had helped him much in the long run. Instead of sitting under the blazing sun for three or four hours, he could do random exercises- magical _and _physical- or go down to the library and read. Petunia never actually checked up on him during chores unless it was nearing mealtime, so he was free to peruse for hours whatever he wanted.

Lately, he had been focusing again on Roman history, along with the basics of chemistry. A book was lying out one day when he went in, and he discovered that it was on the different experiments and combinations that could be made with certain chemicals. It had interested him to no end, and he delved more into it the next time he went.

Looking towards the trimmers, Harry bit his lip. While he could simply tell them to listen as he had the gloves, the last time he did that, they had fallen to the ground when finished, crushing some of the tulips. It was always thinking of commands to make for specific things that was the hard part. Nothing was ever as simple as his first _float_, Harry grumbled.

Picking them up, he did the same ritual as he did with the gloves, using the command _listen _after a moment of hesitation. When they started to twitch and finally float (as they had no fingers to walk on), Harry ordered them to trim the hedges, starting with the sides next to the flowers and moving out. _This way, they'll stop when they're nowhere near over the flowers_, he thought, satisfied. Harry was even more tired after doing that, but he knew it would fade after sitting on the lawn for a bit. No one ever seemed to notice the tools moving on his own, so he made no real effort to hide them beyond that one command. Pulling the pencil and paper from his waistband, Harry glanced behind him to make sure the owl was still there. It was, and was staring at him with a slightly unnerving look. Shivering, he turned back to the paper and debated what to write. He was going to say "yes" obviously, despite what the Dursleys did. The way he saw it, if they found out and forbid him from going in their _especially_ _wondrous_ way, the school would be suspicious and investigate when he didn't show up the first day. Evening. Whatever.

The biggest problem was, as usual, supplies; there was no feasible way for him to reach one of the hidden magical communities to buy them, and the Dursleys were, of course, useless obstacles. Blaise couldn't let him hitch since he was away on little pureblood business or something for the month. The last Harry had seen of him was when they celebrated his birthday early the previous Monday. The school was an option- but should he ask them about supplies?

He was going to mention it, he decided. There was no way he was going to Hogwarts completely unprepared. Picking up the pencil, he wrote:

_Dear Professor McGonagall, _

_ I will be coming to Hogwarts in the fall. Is it possible that someone could come help me retrieve my supplies? I'm afraid my relatives would be opposed to taking me to shop for them._

_ From,_

_ Harry J. Potter_

Folding it into fourths, Harry glanced behind him once more. The owl was still there. Good, but undeniably creepy. Standing on wobbly feet, he risked a look around to make sure no one was watching. The only person outside besides him was Mr. Lawrence, who must have decided it was a safe enough time to come outside without any whispers following him. The poor man was still shunned after all these years, even if it was for a simple accusation of streaking through local parks at night.

Sucking in a huge breath, Harry hobbled across the street, and would have banged into the stop sign itself if it weren't for him swerving at the last second. He jumped when he felt a weight settle on his shoulder a few seconds later, and tilted his head a bit just to see the owl staring at him _still_. Just what was wrong with this thing? He warily held up his note, ready to move to avoid nipped fingers, and the large bird snatched it out of his hands in an instant. It made a strange clicking sound- because _G__od _it wasn't freaky enough- and flew off. Harry stared after it, just a tiny bit terrified.

He had done what he needed to, and from across the street, he could see that the gloves had worked overtime today to finish up early. The trimmers were only done with one hedge, but that was fine with him. He could relax and watch the sky until they were finished. It's not like he had anything else to do today.

* * *

A day later, if you were walking the halls of Hogwarts near the headmaster's office, you would hear a certain staff member cursing both Headmaster Dumbledore and Harry J. Potter and demanding a house elf get him the vodka. It was enough to put any sailor to shame.

* * *

It had been two days, and there had still been no sign of any reply from Hogwarts. Harry didn't actually think he'd get a response, but it would have been nice. Maybe he could try swiping some money from Petunia's purse and hike over to- well, wherever the nearest magical community was. He had been nursing a suspicion for quite a while that there was one in Upper Whinging because of Mr. Smith's flat up there- normally, magic-born wizards and witches didn't live amidst muggles because of the difficulty that came with it. Blaise had told him once to raise his wand arm if he ever needed to get anywhere magical, but that hardly made sense. Was he supposed to be calling a cab? Flagging down some hidden ride? Signalling to the magical spirits _Ey yo can you give me a lift to go spree shopping?_

Harry was, once again, turning these thoughts over in the dim light of his cupboard, and playing with one of the presents he had gotten for his birthday. Well, not necessarily playing. More of... examining. For his birthday, Mr. Smith had given him a ring that was supposed to layer what he called a "glamour" over Harry. He had said it would help cover up anything untoward Harry didn't want people seeing. When he had first put it on and looked in the mirror, his scar had disappeared, along with a nasty scar he had gotten on his upper lip. When he looked down at it in amazement, he saw ten fingers.

Sometimes, the man was so thoughtful it was scary.

But while Harry was grateful for it, he was also inquisitive. How did a glamour layer itself, and how did the enchantment stay on the ring? While he was thinking, he was poking and prodding it, trying to see what made it tick. Sometimes, when he poked a certain spot or overlap, the colours wrapped around it would shift.

That was another thing altogether.

Harry had seen colours like this, wrapped around people and objects for years. He had thought them imaginary, hallucinations, because who thinks that's actually normal? But then they hadn't gone away, only gotten stronger. They were alway dim, never rising above the light you could get from a candle, but many of the things Blaise had showed him were wrapped in some sort of colour, although most had a sort of colourless glow; even his tools had a glow when he was "using" them- always green. Blaise himself was wrapped in a sort of indigo, and Mr. Smith in a strange dark pink. Harry never really questioned it to be honest, and had just dismissed it as something dealing with magic. But that was the big question wasn't- what sort of magic was it? Oh, Blaise had told him about charms and transfigurations and even runes, but this didn't seem like any of it. And the colours were constant as well, even if they dimmed more and brightened sometimes. It was a mystery he had yet to figure out. He hadn't asked Mr. Smith or Blaise about it because... it just seemed to be something he shouldn't talk about. Something he should keep to himself.

The ring Mr. Smith had given him had a sort of gold-and-pink sheen to it, despite being just an iron ring, and was streaked with red. Whenever his finger bumped into a streak of red, it would move, or twist and curl. It was very strange.

So here he was, an 11-year old boy sitting in a boot cupboard fondling a ring and pondering over a note he handed to a terrifying owl. This would be sad if it weren't for the fact it was better and more interesting than most days. After all, nothing of his was hurting, and hadn't been since the first week of July- the Dursleys were almost... waiting for something. Probably the letter, considering how Petunia had to have at least some inkling about Hogwarts. He was mildly content, with a decent birthday and a Hogwarts letter, even if there were some issues with its specifics. All in all, it was one of the best weeks in months.

* * *

Severus Snape could only note with disgust that every house here seemed perfect, clean, and most of all, cookie-cutter exact. It was bad enough he had to take Potter shopping for his supplies, but now he had to see how pampered he was because the damnable Headmaster seemed to think they would "bond" over Severus having known his mother! The old man was barmy if he thought he was going to be any sort of familiar with the boy of the man who had taken Lily.

Going up the driveway to the house marked as Number 4, Severus rung the doorbell and waited. Unlike many other wizards (most of which were wizard-raised), he had dressed sensibly for this outing, although he would be transfiguring his muggle blazer into a robe as soon as they were in the Leaky Cauldron.

When the door opened, he wasn't surprised to see that it was Petunia Evans- or Dursley now, since she married that pig some years ago. She took one look at him and screamed before shutting the door in his face. Well.

* * *

Harry could tell something was dangerously wrong when Petunia screamed. It wasn't her "There's vermin near me", or her "I'm angry and think you're worthless scream". It almost sounded like she was scared. Ha.

Of course, her screaming seemed to alert Vernon, who stood from the poor couch and went to her. You could always tell when him or Dudley were sitting on it, as its springs always squeaked in agony. It was amusing, yet saddening at the same time. That poor, poor couch. They started talking in low voices, and try as he might, Harry couldn't pick up any words. It turns out he didn't need to, as the door to his cupboard flew open and Vernon grabbed him by the collar. Just about the same time the front door slammed open as well, revealing an irate man.

Harry reacted instinctively to the chaos, shoving his hands in front of him and blowing Vernon into the kitchen. He crashed into the dining table, and one of its legs snapped at the force of it. Harry was pretty sure his face was white, and that his eyes were blown wide, and that he was dead. It did not matter what happened afterwards, he was dead.

Slowly shutting the door to his cupboard, Harry slid down the wall and tried to calm his breathing. He wasn't succeeding, but the irate man before had apparently come into the house and shoved something under his nose. It smelled like old sock, but Harry didn't really mind and just took it. It wouldn't matter soon since he just gone off and thrown Vernon into the table _again _and this time he was dead he wasn't getting off with just a few things missing or a few broken-for-days ribs, and he could hear talking above his head faintly, and could see the feet of the stranger from where his head was tilted. He was wearing black, shined boots oddly enough, and his feet were wrapped in a deep red. Was he a wizard too? Maybe the wizard could help them understand that he didn't mind losing a few fingers or getting a permanent limp if it meant staying alive. The talking cut off above him, and the thing in his hands was shoved to his mouth. Oh, he was supposed to drink it? He swallowed it, and the taste reminded him of socks and off lemons. It was nasty beyond belief, but his mind finally cleared and he started thinking calmly.

He was near furious with himself for going off into a panic. Where was the boy who had managed to cut his work in half and work around the Dursley's starvation stretches? Where was the boy who had managed to unsettle even Petunia? It was disgusting, his immediate loss of control, but there were more important things to do as of now other than berate himself. Looking up, he could see the stranger and Petunia, who was standing off to the side worriedly, wringing her hands and glancing between him and the man.

"If you are done with your theatrics, Mr. Potter, then perhaps we can move on." The stranger said bitingly. Harry blinked and narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything as he got up. He could just feel the man eyeing his clothes, but he ignored it- it was a familiar and now ignored feeling. Brushing himself off, he turned to the man once again, and had to look up to see his face properly. The man had to be at least six feet tall, and was indeed wrapped in red as Harry had noticed in his panic-induced haze.

"Are you a professor from Hogwarts, sir?" Harry asked, ignoring Petunia's gasp of indignation. She really should have expected this when you get stuck with a magical child honestly, and he wasn't stupid.

The man sneered. "Indeed. Since you deemed your relatives unworthy of helping you, I was... sent by the Headmaster to take you to get your supplies. And I _will _be doing so." He said, looking pointedly at Petunia. Harry raised an eyebrow at the wording, but didn't say anything. It was probably for the best, seeing as the man seemed to dislike him from the start. Maybe he was one of the Dark wizards Mr. Smith and Blaise talked about? Harry _could _notice something strange in the colours wrapping the man, but he couldn't tell what it exactly was.

"When do we go, sir?" Harry asked.

"Now. I do not want to waste any time because of dawdling around." The man- teacher apparently- answered. He seemed to pause for a moment, and told Harry, "You may call me Professor Snape. I am going to be your Potions professor when the time comes." At that moment, Vernon decided to stumble in- probably with a few thousand splinters in his ass- and decided to put up a fight.

"NO! I WON'T HAVE HIM LEARNING THOSE- THOSE- _THINGS._ HE. STAYS. HERE!" Vernon roared, his face turning an ugly shade of puce. Harry nearly cowered at a sight like that, but stood his ground, and looked towards the Professor to see what he would do. Professor Snape smiled coldly, and it was as though the gates of Hell themselves chilled to an arid cool. It was _amazing. _

"I am afraid you have no power over this Dursley. It was written in his parents' will that he is to attend Hogwarts, and he **will**. Good_bye_, 'Tuney." With that, he started to quickly stalk over to the door, and Harry followed after a moment of jaw-dropped surprise.

* * *

They took the train to London, which was the strangest part of it all, somehow. When Harry asked why, Professor Snape had sneered and said they certainly couldn't apparate or call the Knight Bus in the middle of a muggle neighborhood. Harry vaguely knew the terms, and concluded that Blaise must have mentioned it once or twice. Perhaps the Knight Bus was what he meant about transportation?

After a little under an hour, they reached the heart of London. Professor Snape had started walking without much of an indication of where they were going, and Harry didn't have a clue until they stopped in front of a dirty pub on Charing Cross Road. It had a sign calling it "The Leaky Cauldron", and a slight glow wrapped around it. Harry felt a bit nauseous going near it, for some reason he couldn't discern.

"Professor, I don't think children are allowed in pubs." Harry said, shifting from foot to foot in an effort to relieve the feeling. It didn't work, sadly. The tall man simply let out a put-upon sigh and dragged Harry in. No one on the street seemed to notice a tall man dragging a practical waif into a run-down bar. What a wonderful moment, no?

As they went farther into the bar, Harry's nausea only grew, and even his chest was starting to feel strange, with an almost stuffed feeling. It was getting hard to walk, even with Professor Snape's firm hand on his shoulder, and he couldn't stop his stumbling every few steps. He could hear the potions master greeting some people, and possibly saying a spell of some kind; and while it wasn't like when he was panicking, it was still hard to hear- everything sounded muffled to an extreme extent. By the time they reached the alley behind the pub, it was a proven miracle that that far was managed. Harry could barely hear, and his head was starting to pound by now. He didn't notice when his vision fogged over or when he collapsed, although Professor Snape certainly did.

"Potter? Potter!" Severus shouted, going from annoyed to alarmed. The boy had been acting strange since they arrived, but he didn't think there was anything actually wrong with the boy! Had Dursley done something before he opened the door? He was about to cast a diagnostic charm, but the young Potter awoke before he had the chance to.

_Oh. _was all Harry really thought when he came to. The nauseous feeling and stuffiness were gone, but in their place, everything was... clear? Sharper in a way, and even energising. He felt better than he had in... well, years, to be honest. Adjusting his glasses and sitting up, Harry blinked. Well, almost everything was sharper. Slowly taking off his glasses, Harry looked around, and could _see_ without them. In fact, he could see better, which might prove that Aunt Petunia never bought him decent ones. And everything was _glowing. _Unlike before, where everything was as bright as a candle, the buildings were shining and Professor Snape was practically a _lamp_! A very red lamp, at that, with a very obvious bruise hovering over his left arm that Harry could now spot. The man in question was staring at Harry as though he were a confusing and unpleasant puzzle, but gave him a hand to help him up anyways. Harry took it, stumbling a bit when standing, but was otherwise fine. He put his now-useless glasses into his pocket, and him and the professor went into what was apparently Diagon Alley, commerce central of British wizards.

* * *

It was amazing in the alley, but endlessly grating. With the new edge that had entered Harry's awareness, everything was bright and strong; smells were pungent, people loud, and colours glaring. Not to mention the _stereotypes. _He knew what he was jumping into because of all those times he hanged out with Blaise, but dear lord, he wasn't prepared for robes, pointy hats, flying brooms, and familiars all at once. It was almost too much. But he had to hold out long enough to get through this as best he could. Currently, they were walking down the main road at a sedate pace.

"Mr. Potter, I trust you have your supplies list?" Professor Snape asked. Harry nodded, pulling it from the waistband of his trousers, where he had hidden it. Reading over it, Harry frowned as he realised something.

"Si- Professor Snape, how will I get anything? My relatives would never lend me money for any of this, and I can't access any vaults I have without a key." Harry asked. The Dursleys certainly wouldn't give him money to buy such "freakish" things, and would sooner steal _his _from the vaults left to him. And he couldn't even open those without having a vault key, or one of those sigil rings Mr. Smith had mentioned. He'd have to see about the requirements to those sometimes...

Snape let out another put-upon sigh. "Headmaster Dumbledore has temporarily given me the key to your trust vault. After today, I am to give it to you, and then you can waste money to your heart's content." Oh. That made sense. Well, not much.

"Why does the Headmaster have my key, sir? Shouldn't the-the Dursleys have it, since they're my guardians?"

The Professor seemed almost surprised at this question, and then snorted under his breath. "Do you really think _they_ could be trusted with heaps of money? Knowing Petunia, she would probably spend it all on frivolous things. In addition, the Headmaster is your magical guardian, and as such has access to such things." By the time they were done walking, they had reached an enormous, white-stoned building at the very end of the main street. It had "GRINGOTTS BANK" carved into its front, and what Harry could only assume was a goblin was standing by its large doors, watching and bowing to those who walked in. As they entered themselves, Harry bowed in return to the goblin, who almost seemed surprised for a moment. Passing those doors, they came to a slightly smaller pair of silver doors, engraved with words.

"Enter, stranger, but take heed of what awaits the sin of greed. For those who take, but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn. So if you seek beneath our floors a treasure that was never yours, Thief, you have been warned. Beware of finding more than treasure there. Ominous." Harry murmured, reading the words. Professor Snape snorted beside him, but didn't say anything. As they walked inside, Harry could see it certainly did look like a bank, despite the strange clients and tellers.

Counters lined the sides of the doors, with a goblin perched at each one; some were talking to customers, while others seemed to be counting things or going over paperwork- parchemntwork? Hm. Harry would never understand why wizards used PARCHMENT of all things instead of a sensible thing such as paper. Walking to one of the free tellers, Snape cleared his throat. The teller looked up from whatever they were filling out -with a _quill _of all things- and seemed to curl their lip a bit. "Can I help you?" He? She? asked. Professor Snape rummaged in his pockets for a moment, and then pulled out a large brass key and set it on the desk.

"I need to withdraw an amount of 250 galleons from Harry Potter's trust vault. I also have a package I need to retrieve in Vault 713." The goblin picked the key up, inspecting it and turning it this way and that. After they seemed satisfied, they slid the key back to Snape and- barked? Harry assumed they had said something in a different language, as another goblin came rushing towards them, hurtling to a stop and bowing.

"This is Griphook. He will take you down to the appropriate vaults. Have a good day." With that, it seemed the transaction had ended, and Snape started to follow Griphook. Harry bowed to the teller, and thanked him for his help, rushing off before he saw the look on their face.

Griphook took them off to the side, and through a door that seemed to lead to a huge cavern. It had a good-sized ledge, and large carts perched on tracks lining it. Beyond that was darkness broken by light from sconces and water reflecting. The three of them clambered into the nearest one, although Harry was very hesitant, seeing how those tracks twisted and turned in the distance. It turns out he that while he shouldn't have worried about being hurt, he was right on the mark about it very, very unpleasant. Every time they went around a sharp turn, he felt his stomach lurch into his side, and every time they went down, he could feel it fly into his throat. By the time they reached his trust vault, Harry was very sure that this was payback for something the wizards had done, or a very cruel, unavoidable joke between them.

Griphook, the devious goblin, smoothly got out and waited for the two of them to step out. The professor seemed a bit shaky on his feet, and Harry was just barely fighting back the wave of sick-up threatening his dignity. After miraculously avoiding an incident, he finally got out and stepped up to the door where the others were waiting.

It was an intricate door, with locks, gears, and other bits and pieces decorating its surface. Harry didn't know how one key could open this much- it looked like you would need 20! But Griphook simply took the key from the professor and inserted it in a lock about waist-high on a human. With a sonorous _*CLICK*_, the locks and gears started to turn one by one. When they were finished, the door parted in two to reveal mounds of galleons, sickles, and knuts. Harry probably would have gone and touched one of them to see if they were even real because _holy god that is a lot of money_, but Griphook pulled out a pouch before he could do anything, and snapped his fingers. Dozens of galleons flew up in the air and into the bag, filling and filling it but never stretching it, it seemed. When he was done, Griphook gave the sack and key back to the professor, and they all clambered back into the cart for another sickening ride.

The next stop passed quickly, and while Harry was curious as to just what the "package" was, the only details he got from it were that it was wrapped in brown paper, small, and most likely important. From the glance he got of the vault itself, it was actually empty, save for the package itself. Very suspicious. And interesting.

After disturbing yet another goblin, Harry and Professor Snape left the bank, laden with one bag of gold and one less mystery. They went from place to place in the alley, first getting Harry's telescope and class books. _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _and _Magical Drafts and Potions _both seemed interesting, and Harry predicted that he would enjoy both potions and herbology. That is, he would enjoy herbology and might enjoy potions, if Professor Snape was more... stoic in the class. Harry had a feeling he wasn't, but kept his hopes up out of spite.

The next place they went after this was the apothecary. Snape had yet to say more than a few words and snide comments, and didn't look ready to say anything more when they went here. The Professor stopped to ogle the things in the store window, and Harry absent-mindedly listened to the background. Some mother was scolding her sons. A woman was talking to her brother about someone named Sunny. A store bell was jingling, and someone was running up- Harry moved to side, narrowly missing an arm that was about to slam itself onto his shoulders.

"You know, you could have told me you were going to be in the Alley today. Without your glasses as well- did you finally go to an oculist?" A annoyed voice said above his ear. Harry grinned. Reaching a hand out, he silently commanded _pull _and tugged Blaise towards him, wrapping an arm around his neck and giving him a noogie. Blaise grunted, and tried to escape the inescapable. It didn't occur to Harry at that time that there was barely any drain or thought to the command, but later he would ponder it for nights to come while looking at the door of his cupboard.

"I would have to be psychic to know, dear Blaise! And wouldn't you like to know?" Harry sing-songed, letting him go. He heard a chuckling voice behind him, and looked to see Mrs. Zabini. The woman hadn't changed a bit from when Harry had first met her. Beautiful, tall, and dangerous. She was smiling and gazing at the two of them. Blaise straightened up beside him and smoothed out his robes.

"Ah, hello Harrison! You have certainly grown from the first time since I saw you. I trust dear Severus has been treating you well this day?" Harry would have answered, but there was a glint in her eye. He couldn't tell what it was, but he didn't trust it completely. It was that of a person waiting for the order to kill. So, he simply nodded his head and smiled. Her's widened. Harry wouldn't be surprised if even Professor Snape was nervous of that, and he hadn't even reacted to Vernon...

"That is good! I must say, Severus, the boys have not had a chance to be together like this in such a long time. What do you say in my Blaise and I joining you two? We have already gone to Flourish & Blotts." Both boys looked to Snape for his answer, Harry giving him his best kicked-small-animal eyes. The man himself looked like he was just put upon a cliff with only sour lemons to eat, and stiffly answered her.

"I would be amiable with you joining us, Nicola. We have been to Flourish & Blotts as well, along with Arthur's Astronomer Emporium." Harry drowned out their small talk at that point, covertly slipping the money pouch from Professor Snape's pocket and getting Blaise's attention. The two of them sneaked into the apothecary, the two adults none the wiser.

The two of them didn't really talk, not with people in there, but they both peered about at the ingredients while walking to the counter. It smelled disgusting in the building, a mix of not-there decay, fluids, and something Harry didn't want to think about. He didn't know potion ingredients could be this... unpleasant. He should have expected it though, even without his newly-clear senses. The cashier there was an old man with a scraggly beard. He looked friendly enough.

"Excuse me, sir, I need the-" He paused here, discreetly glancing at Blaise, who was making a wavy motion with his hand. Was that really supposed to be a snake? He really needed the improve that boy's gestures. "Slytherin's potion set, for first years." The man leaned over the counter and stared hard at the two of them. It was unnerving, but after half a minute he leaned back, grunting. He turned, rummaging through something, before handing Harry a box of something with spells over it, coloured a dark grey. Preservation spells, probably. Merlin, that was disconcerting to actually _see_. Well, brighter, at least.

"That'll be 10 galleons." Harry counted out the money and gave it to the man, plucking the box off the counter. It smelled horrible, as expected. They both quickly exited the store, not wanting the adults to notice they had been gone. It seemed that during their mini-excursion, Mrs. Zabini and the professor had gotten into an argument, and were hissing words at each other to the side in Italian. Of course, the boys didn't exactly know this, and sneaked back up to the two of them before making a loud entrance.

"Mother, we still have to go to Ollivander's and Madame Malkin's, and I wanted to show Harry the Magical Menagerie." Blaise uttered loudly. The two adults jumped, and Harry took that opportunity to slip the money pouch back into Professor Snape's pocket. Mission success.

"A-ah, yes we do, thank you for reminding me, bambino. Do not run off again, yes? I do not want to lose you two in the crowds." Mrs. Zabini replied. Professor Snape still seemed startled, and even a bit confused, but quickly masked it. Together, the four of them trundled over to Madame Malkin's where the boys would be fitted for their school uniforms and robes. Harry wondered if he could convince Professor Snape to let him get a few pair of fitting trousers and shirts, but decided against it. The man was too caustic to risk it; Harry would have to acquire his measurements and order himself.

When they went in the store, Harry could see that it was a warm, welcoming place. The floors were paneled with shined wood, and the walls were a cheery blue. " Come in, darlings! Hogwarts, I'm guessing? I can only fit one of you first, as I've already got another up here." Someone called. It was a plump woman off to the side, wearing a low dress and cheery expression. Blaise and Harry looked between each other, and silently decided it would be quicker if Harry went first. Stepping up onto the platform, Harry found himself next to a blond boy, staring down at the others. Mrs. Zabini and Professor Snape had seated themselves in front of the window, once again arguing. Blaise was sitting closest to Harry, and grinning slightly. Bastard. Maybe literally.

"Blaise? What are you doing here? And who is _this_?" Jumping slightly, Harry turned towards the blond boy, who had just spoken. Looking closely at him, Harry felt a creeping sense of dread. Flaxen hair slicked back with far too much product, grey eyes, and a face that spoke of many silver spoons in a mouth, he was certain. This was Draco Malfoy. He needed to interrupt Blaise before he did anything drastic.

And interrupt he did. As Blaise was about to reply, Harry smiled sweetly and replied, "My name is Augustus Evans. I suppose you're Draco Malfoy? Blaise has told me _so much _about you." Malfoy's jaw near dropped, and his eyes bugged out. Harry could have laughed, but kept it in. No need to antagonise such a... potential figure. At that thought he really _did _nearly burst out laughing.

"YOU'RE _AUGUSTUS_!? Y-you're seriously the one that Blaise never shuts up about? B-but you're-"

"He's what?" Blaise cut in sharply. His eyes were narrowed by this point, and he was scowling. Amazing, how it took Malfoy for him to show more than disgust or annoyance in public.

Malfoy immediately balked, apologising and nearly raising his arms in defense. "I-I didn't mean it like that, it's just that his clothes are a bit- strange? You can't blame me Blaise, look at them!" From the sidelines, the adults' attention had been caught, and both were sighing at the bluntness of the pale boy. It appears one can't have money _and _subtlety.

"Your godson." Nicola murmured, jabbing Snape with her finger.

"Shut it, not my problem today." He bit back, slapping away the offending appendage.

"It's alright Draco, my family just buys me these sort of things. I suppose it must look strange to a magic-exclusively raised wizard." Harry said gently, keeping up the sweet smile. He was sure Blaise was staring at him now; he was also sure that Mr. Smith was a godsend, since he was sure his bangs had slipped at least twice since coming in here... Draco looked as though he were about to say something more, but Madame Malkin declared that she was finished with his measurements. The blond boy hopped down from the stool, and hesitated.

"I trust you're going to Hogwarts?" He said, building back up some of the pomp he had before. Not pointing out he was obviously getting measured for a Hogwarts uniform, Harry nodded. " I'll find you and Blaise on the train then. You can meet the others." With that, he left, presumably to hunt down his parents.

"_Seven years_." Harry hissed as Blaise stepped onto the now-vacant stool. The taller boy snickered and shrugged. "I am _not _dealing with that for seven years. His snob was as obvious as a flying car. It'd be worse dealing with a younger _you _for seven years."

The rest of the visit passed uneventfully, until Harry was finished. Mrs. Zabini stopped him from stepping off the stool, and the others stared at her inquisitively. " Ah, Signora Malkin, is it possible that you could create a full wardrobe for Harrison as well? I am afraid he is quite unprepared, and his _relatives _did not have such _cross their mind._" She asked, shooting a glare at Professor Snape. The man glared back, holding back a scowl. Madame Malkin seemed unnerved at the... exchange, but nodded in assent. Mrs. Zabini smiled at Harry, and his eyes were about to bug out or well up. He couldn't tell which. "Think of it as a birthday present from me, Harrison. This way, you can present yourself as a proper wizard, si?" Harry slowly nodded, still not really believing it.

_ Well, it seems as though I won't need to ask Professor Snape_, Harry thought blankly.

* * *

It shouldn't be a surprise that even more of a brouhaha started when they went to buy the boys' wands. They had finished the rest of the shopping (which included purchasing cauldrons, trunks, phials, scales, hitting up the Magical Menagerie to marvel at everything not mundane, and a lovely snowy owl for Harry to use as a mailing owl), and creeped into Ollivander's around 2.00 in the afternoon. By now, Snape seemed resigned to it all, Mrs. Zabini was telling the boys about her own visit to Ollivander's, and Blaise and Harry were eager to finish the trip.

When walking into the store, one is usually greeted by a site that will entice them into coming in and purchasing the products sold. However, with Ollivander's, there was no need for such tactics to be used, and there was no possible way for the man to ever have a need to advertise his business. When you entered Ollivander's Wands, you were greeted by racks and racks of boxes that could be vaguely taken as shoeboxes, mismatched and random furniture, and a sense of stuffiness that never seemed to end until you left. There is a dusty desk to the side piled with more boxes, and a distinct "old-paper" odor can be smelled. It was a pleasant smell to Harry, but he could have dealt without the sight currently plaguing his eyes. Hundreds of colours were swirling around the place, blending and pushing together, invading his space, making him dizzy.

"Fir, 11 inches, dragon heartstring. Good for healing and powerful spells. Birch, 11 1/2 inches, unicorn hair. Excellent for charms and hexes. I trust you two are using them well after all these years?" A voice suddenly called. Startled, Harry twisted to see an old man coming from behind a rack to the far right. He had a shock of white hair, going in all directions from his head. For some reason, Harry couldn't quite focus on him, as though his eyes were just sliding over the man. "Ah, I see you have brought two new wielders. It is a pleasure to meet you, messers. Potter and Zabini. My name is Mr. Ollivander. I am sure we can find you wands in all this mess. Now, who goes first?" After another silent decision, Blaise nervously stepped up to the old man. "Raise your wand-arm for me if you will- yes, just like that." With a flick of his wand, Ollivander sent a tape measure zooming over Blaise's body, measuring absurd places. When it finished, it rolled up and clacked down onto the table, with Ollivander muttering and going back to the racks. He peered along the strange boxes, until his hand shot out and plucked one from the bunch.

Bringing the box back and opening it, he said, "Oak, 10 inches, dragon heartstring. Good for strong spells and charms. Give it a flick." After passing the wand inside to Blaise, he immediately snatched it back, muttering under his breath. The next ten minutes passed in this fashion, with a wand being snatched from Blaise's hand or a horrible reaction occurring when the young wizard actually waved one. Finally, Ollivander brought back another box. It was as dusty indigo to Harry's strange eyes, and as Mr. Ollivander said, "Rowan wood, 12 inches, with a dragon heartstring core. Good for wards and mind-magics- why don't you try it on for size, Mr. Zabini?" Harry knew before even Blaise did that this was the one. There was simply no doubting it, and as Blaise waved it, Harry was proven right when olive and yellow sparks shot out of the wand to form a running wolf. Blaise grinned, a grin of unsoiled joy, and even the adults seemed charmed by it. Ollivander clapped his hands in delight, and waved up Harry as the wolf disappeared.

"Now Mr. Potter, what is _your _wand arm?" Harry silently held out his right arm, and much the same process began. Ollivander measured him, and then shoved wand after wand towards him, only to pull it away at the last second. A pile was steadily growing on one of the chairs near the desk, and bigger it became, the more nervous Harry was. What if none of the wands fit him? What if he just had to use his commands, and stand out even more than he would? He tried to shake off such thoughts, but they seemed to slink back with each rejected wand.

After about the 30th one, Ollivander stopped and peered at Harry. It was the same peering Harry had seen him do to the boxes, and was quite a bit unnerving. "I fear I have been going about this the wrong way... Perhaps, with such a well... Just maybe.." Ollivander murmured, before rushing back to the boxes. After a minute or so of rummaging, he brought back a very dusty box, with a dim yellow-green colour wrapped to it. Harry doubted it had been touched in ages. "Try this one, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Good for neutral spells and offensive spells. Give it a wave." Grabbing it, Harry felt a surge of electricity go through him. The end of the wand lit up like a star, and bright green and red sparks shot out faster than a jet of water. It was as though he had just regained a missing limb. "Ah, there we go. Should have expected a tricky combination with such a well. Very curious, however..."

"Curious, sir?" Harry asked, staring down at his wand.

" .. Mr. Potter, the phoenix that gave the feather for that wand has only given one other. To a brother wand if you will. I'm saddened to say it's the one that gave you that scar you're covering. Thirteen and a half inches, yew wood." He finished. Harry blinked, shocked, and stared closer at his wand. Its brother had been the Dark Lord's? That was certainly... unsettling. _But_, Harry considered, _the wand isn't the one casting the spell._ _The wizard is; the wand is just a tool._

"The Dark Lord gave me this scar sir," He finally said, "Not the wand. The wand, and the magic, they were tools, not the perpetrator." Ollivander hummed at that, but didn't give an answer. The others were strangely silent.

"We can expect great things from you Mr. Potter, with a wand like that. Terrible or good, no one can say. That will be seven galleons for Mr. Potter's and six for Mr. Zabini's."

* * *

Blaise had unsurprisingly blown up when they left the shop. Something about connections and power, and advantages. Harry wasn't really listening, more focused on shrinking everything so the Dursleys couldn't take them. He left the owl (who he had yet to name) and its cage unshrunk, along with his wand (obviously). Perhaps the Dursleys would be more... docile with it visible. Professor Snape hadn't stopped staring at him for quite a while and eyed him as he shrunk everything down, but seemed to have decided talking wasn't worth Mrs. Zabini's quips. By the time they reached The Leaky Cauldron, everyone was tired, and the Zabinis bid their goodbyes as they flooed from the pub's fireplace. The ride back on the train was silent as well, and Harry couldn't say he minded it. It was nice to have some peace after the chaos that was Diagon Alley.

When they reached Number 4, Professor Snape turned to him before leaving. "To reach the Hogwarts Express, you will need to go to King's Cross on September 1st. Go between Platforms 9 and 10, where the entrance is hidden. Here is your ticket, Mr. Potter, along with your vault key and... change." Snape handed Harry the items stiffly. He hesitated once more. "If your relatives act... unfavorably towards you and the subject of magic, do not hesitate to owl the school. I know your aunt can be.. caustic when it comes to such matters." The man fled after that, his robe billowing behind him as he walked away. Looking down at his ticket, Harry couldn't help the feeling of dread he had over the outcome of the next month.

* * *

Whee! Sorry for the day delay, I started writing this wayyy too late and tried to fit in as much as i had planned. Anyways, third chapter! More introduced! Snapey is on the scene and much sneakery is already going on! owo I tried to be creative with the wands, going by tree meanings and looking up the wand cores (even though ollivander apparently only uses three for some reason), along with the colours (WHICH DO HAVE MEANING I PROMISE)

So, reply time!

**Sazq **- your reaction made me laugh. Like, big time :D And thanks! I was really worried about how to pace this because there's plot things that can't be missed along with just traditional stuff that needs to go into a story like this, but i know a lot of people just want to shoot towards Hogwarts when reading. :/ And like I said in the last reply, it's not necessarily the _being _atronach that I based it on, but more of the _standing stone _and _sign _you can find in Skyrim and Oblivion respectively. If I remember right, they basically let you absorb like 70% magicka hurtling towards you, but regenerate it slower.


	4. In Which Character is Debated

My birthday passed during the week interim! I am now officially one year closer to giving the middle finger to this town and running off to college :') I gotta admit to you guys, this chapter was really hard to write. I've honestly only planned from the sorting hat onwards, so I'm going on the WING OF EMOTION. And Ive tried to put this out as fast as I can, so there may be some blips here and there; id appreciate if you neutrally pointed them out. Id love it if you read and comment! AN and replies at bottom!

**SLIGHTLY EDITED 3-9-14**

* * *

The past month was disturbing, to say the absolute least. While Harry had been left untouched ever since the beginning of July and even ignored some, now he was seen less than a ghost. Every morning, he'd make breakfast as usual, and the Dursleys wouldn't even _look _at him. Vernon and Petunia seemed to sweat bullets whenever he went near them, and only shoved lists of chores and meals for the day with a few muttered comments. They hardly tried to trap him in the cupboard, only ever locking it after dinner now. And where he went after his chores were finished was never demanded, even when it became blatantly obvious that he was slipping off somewhere; he had seen no point hiding his comings and goings once the "secret" of magic was out. After all, him going to the library for information-cramming certainly had to be better in their eyes. Better than turning them into toads, at least. He had fancied that before remembering he didn't exactly have anywhere to go, and no way to support himself as a minor. One can only rely on dead family's funds for so long, after all. But even Dudley had let up, only glaring at him and running off whenever he saw him outside of the house. It was a merciful relief not to deal with "Harry Hunting", but made Harry more nervous than ever. It reminded him of that blurry time when he was still in the roots of primary school, and the nurse had talked to his teacher, who decided a social worker should visit. After a bout of pretending Harry didn't live in a 2x3 cupboard and didn't do all the work around the house on a diet of bread and water, Vernon had tried to do...well, his worst. Harry didn't like to think about it, but it still gave him some satisfaction to remember Vernon's head connecting with the fireplace in the days after, even if the memory was tangled with fear, pain, and hospital bills that sadly didn't pertain to him. They had refused to acknowledge him for weeks after that, and just locked him in the cupboard whenever he came home from school. Those were hard weeks, with him having to constantly exhaust himself by unlocking the door to steal food and relieve himself.

Still, with what they were obviously waiting for (the ominous Hogwarts letter) have come and pass, it made no sense to him that they were quivering like dogs in the face of a vacuum. Unless they just... didn't know about the trace?

Blaise had mentioned it when Mr. Smith had first demonstrated the disillusionment charm, and how wizards and witches under 17 years of age couldn't perform magic without warning and eventual punishment because of a charm on their wands. The only places minors could perform magic were strips like Diagon Alley or muggle-free places. The only exception was when the magic was performed in cases of self-defense. It seemed sensible to Harry when considering trying to keep magic from muggles, but also seemed to contradict. If they couldn't perform magic in places with muggles, then it was certain that muggleborns and even half-bloods would be stagnant over the summer; pureblood children however, with their parents surrounding them and their no-doubt warded houses, would most likely be able to use it when they wanted. It was far too stilted in the pure-bloods' favor.

Harry had nonetheless carried his wand, because he certainly could claim self-defense in the extreme cases he would actually use it. Not that he would; it was more of a deterrent than anything- he had his commands to hide himself. And in spite of all the wondrous "freak things" Harry now owned and had access to, the Dursleys hadn't seen any need to move him from his cupboard. Keeping it unlocked seemed to be their only compromise, on the part. With all the supplies Harry had bought in Diagon Alley, he would have no room unless everything was shrunk down and unusable. So, Harry had simply foregone shrinking and unshrinking things constantly and put his supplies and trunk in Dudley's spare room. They never went in there save for within a week of gift-giving holidays anyways. With him shading them with a _hide _every time he came and went, nothing would seem out of place beyond his copious trips upstairs. Vernon always twitched at that from his spot on the couch, but didn't say anything Harry could actually make out.

His snowy owl, who he had decided to name Hedwig, after a German witch mentioned in his History of Magic book, had decided to roost in the branches of the oak tree in the Dursley's backyard. He went out and fed her the mice he had bought every day, and stroked her feathers and talked about his latest activities. It didn't matter to him that she was an owl- she had to be some sort of intelligent to know where to bring letters, right?

When he ran out and told her he didn't have anymore, she had hooted at him with some- some _owl _look and flown off. Later, he had spotted her tearing open a squirrel before he went inside for the evening. _Oh yeah, _he had thought, _predator. Perfectly capable of hunting food down. _And that had been that.

So the month passed this way, with everyone on edge and ready to pounce or run. Harry read through a good chunk of his books, including his Herbology book, and examined his potions ingredients. Most were from strange plants, or were random parts from long-dead animals. They all smelled completely disgusting still, and were barely masked by the overbearing lemon smell permeating the house. None glowed beyond the preservation spell put on them. He did the chores given to him swiftly, and went to the library afterwards, or explored the neighborhood with his new-found senses. He could now clearly make out arguments in other houses, and see details he never noticed before. Instead of looking like a giant green blur, the trees' leaves had finite lines skittering across them. Instead of feeling only slightly more stretched than other clothes, Dudley's hand-me-downs felt as though they were barely held together by a thread. Instead of tasting of nothing, his daily bread slices actually tasted of wheat. It was nowhere near as bad as Diagon Alley, but it still pressed on him. He adapted though, and soon became used to it, after a number of insomnic nights. It was all he could to do, to adapt. It was the best thing.

At the library, he read about history and chemistry and the Latin language, because looking through his spellbooks, he felt he was going to drill it into his head. Or maybe he wouldn't- was wingardium a word in _any _language? With his chemistry studies, reading over experiments and combinations had become more than just entertainment. From what he had seen of his potions textbook, chemistry and potions were one and the same, with the magical counterpart being more volatile. If he could learn the scientific first and apply it to the magical, he was sure his experience in the class would go much smoother. If he knew how the elements and chemicals in the ingredients reacted together, there'd be a smaller chance of him doing something disastrous like blowing up or melting a cauldron. With history, there was a chance of picking up hints at ancient wizards and witches mentioned in the uncensored books. Now wouldn't that be interesting?

The librarian, used to his habits, simply shook her head when she saw the pile he was amassing at the table each day. How a young boy could read those sort of things was beyond her.

When all this was done, uninteresting at the moment, or unavailable, Harry would practice magic. Nothing complicated such as transfiguring a pillow into a cat, of course. He'd make a ball of light, or turn his hair red, or make a piece of rubbish fly around in the air. He could feel the tug at his middle, something being drained each time, but it felt smaller than a prickle. Nothing like his old lock escapades, or even gardening modifications, which were easier than air nowadays. He wondered if it was related to his new... improvements. He decided not to think about it for the time being, if only for peace of mind. No way of knowing what this really was.

By September 1st, however, Harry was ready to _go_. The perpetual silence was grating on his nerves, continuous monotony that lay unbroken even by Blaise or Mr. Smith, both of who had begged off coming down to Little Whinging due to business (and some "Order" that Mr. Smith had gone off muttering about. It was the first time Harry heard him do more than cackle, giggle, or speak to them in an absent-minded voice. It was, in short words, unnerving as all God. Even Blaise had backed away a little at that). And while the library was filled with books to read and old newspapers to sleep on, it gave little in the way of actual comfort. This thankfully ended on the first- although there were hiccups in certain... areas.

Right now, a little past ten, Harry was quietly riding the Knight Bus, seated near the door with his luggage and Hedwig and watching the buildings rush past. He was dressed in some of the clothes Mrs. Zabini had gifted him- a white button-up, and soft brown slacks- and he had to admit they were infinitely better than hand-me-downs. He had burnt the majority of those the moment the new wardrobe arrived. After raising his wand arm earlier that morning, he finally found out what Blaise meant. Seconds after he had done so a blue, a towering double-decker bus had zipped down the street and stopped in front of him; the driver saw his tiny self and immediately asked whether he was going to King's Cross Station. So here he was, on a strange bus that no one on the road seemed to notice as it zipped by; he supposed the greyish glow inside and out had something to do with that.. Hedwig was beside him, softly whistling in her sleep. It was adorable. The bus was warm on the inside, and beds and end tables lining its walls to the back instead of seats. The driver was an old man who didn't seem to actually be able to see, and was going on to an older boy abot some woman or another. Sighing, Harry fiddled with his ring and remembered the experience of finally talking to the Dursleys a few days ago.

* * *

"_Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked from the hall. Vernon twitched and grunted, not turning from his spot on the couch. Harry took this as a sign to continue. "I-I was invited to Hogwarts th-this year, and I'm going," Harry breathed in deeply, and in a surge of bravery, burst out, "I'm going and you can't stop me. If you try stop me or-or make it so I can't go, I'll contact Professor Snape. And I'll be back next summer until school starts again." Vernon was twisted around now, and turning a spectacular shade of puce as he was wont to do. He was eyeing Harry up and down, and often stopped on his wand, which was in the grip of Harry's sweaty palm. He always carried it like this when he was in the house. He hysterically for a moment wondered if Vernon could see him shaking, and banished the foolish thought after a moment. Harry stared at him defiantly, still scared, until the rotund man finally backed down and turned back the television. He was silent, far more quieter than usual before he answered. Usually, the man would be breathing heavily, or making the furniture creak, or even snoring. It was unnatural, hearing nothing come from him._

"_Don't you dare start thinking you we're taking you to that freak school, boy. Or that we'll let you back in my house in July." Vernon forced out. It sounded as though it physically pained him to say it, and Harry didn't regret feeling more than just relief at that. Maybe a sense of satisfaction, at the man finally backing down for once. As he started walking to the front door, he could hear Petunia start hissing about hiding this from Dudley from her place on the stairs._

* * *

Blinking, Harry could feel the bus stopping, and glanced back to the road. They were in front of a train station that was obviously King's Cross, as the driver announced a moment later. He and a few others stood and got off at this point, and walked into the station.

It was huge to him on the inside, with hundreds of people criss-crossing this way and that, and trains waiting or leaving or arriving. Smells mingled together, creating an indistinguishable cloud of scent, and voices mixed conversations, arguments, lives. But he didn't have time to idle and ogle- the train was scheduled to leave at 11 o'clock according to his ticket, and it was already 10.20. Walking around, it took him a while to find just the right platform. When he did, he could see it was indeed as Professor Snape had said. Smack between the column that marked both platform 9 and 10, there was the glow Harry had come to associate with magic, and wizards and witches passing through to the unseen side. He noticed one family in particular, a smattering of red-heads who were passing through at the moment. Some of them looked vaguely familiar, but he could hardly remember where he had seen them._ Probably in passing in the Alley_, he thought. He waited while they all passed through the barrier, and then sedately went through himself. Once he was through, he was just slightly amazed again. Slightly. The train in front of him was shiny, crimson, and couldn't have looked newer than if it just came off the production line, although it must have been decades old. People- _wizards and witches_- were milling about, dressed in robes and dresses that would have been terribly out of place in the muggle world. He could see children carrying toads, owls, cats, even some things he couldn't identify- and everything _thrummed_. It was Diagon Alley, but on a smaller, maybe even homier scale. He smiled, and walked towards the train. The people he passed were all in their own little worlds- one boy was talking about his lost toad, another about his new pet tarantula. He could even hear one kid whining about not being able to bring their broomstick. A little to his right in the corner of his eye, he could see a wide man speaking to his two daughters about upholding the family name- twins presumably, with how they looked. These were people he'd know at Hogwarts, and have classes with. People he might make friends with. People who might... might only care for the Boy-Who-Lived. Grimacing, he pushed the thought away and went back to his observing.

He thought he saw what could have been heads of platinum and black for a moment, but they disappeared before he could find them again. No matter, he was sure the others would find him by the end of the ride. If he wanted to find them.

When he found an empty compartment, near the end of the train, he silently commanded his things to _lift_, and gently pushed them into the carriage. Hedwig shuffled a bit in her sleep, but didn't wake.

"Oy Gred, look at the ickle firstie doing magic all on his own. You sure you don't need a hand kid?" Turning, Harry was faced with one of the children from the family of red-heads; another one of them- another twin, what a coincidence- was rushing up, grinning.

"It's quite all right, sirs. I can handle it on my own. May I ask what your names are?" Harry replied, smiling a bit. The boys did a double-take, and one of them (Gred?) mock-swooned in despair, the other catching him in his arms.

"OH, Feorge, did you hear that? _SIRS_! My poor soul aches at such language!" He cried.

"It's a travesty, a mockery!"

"A slander on our good record!"

"Who knows what would happen if someone heard us called _sir_? Ruining the toilets of Hogwarts would never feel the same!" They held that pose for a few seconds before breaking down into snickers as Harry watched on, smiling politely. "Seriously, firstie, I'm George and this is Fred. The Weasley twins are at your service! Who're you?" One of them got out between snickers.

"You can call me... Augustus. Augustus Evans. It's a pleasure to meet you, Fred and George." Harry said, extending his hand. They both took it, pumping it up and down excitably. One of them was about to say something, but a voice called out, to his relief, from the crowd.

"Fred? George? Where did you two run off to?"

"Coming!" They chorused, and ran off after a quick wave to Harry. He sighed for the second time that day, and climbed up to where his things were hovering on the train.

Harry had picked a compartment at the very end of the carriage, and set his trunk on the shelf above. He let Hedwig out to fly with the train once they started moving, and now he was lightly dozing with her cage between his legs on the floor. He was jolted awake when the door to the compartment slid open, and a ginger popped his head in.

"Is anyone else sitting here? Everywhere else is full." Harry sleepily shook his head, and gestured to the seat opposite. The other boy trudged in gratefully, and put his bags next to Harry's. "My name's Ron Weasley. You were the boy Fred and George were talking to right? I caught a glimpse of you."

Rubbing his eyes, Harry got a clearer look at Ron. He was gangly, with freckles and long arms and legs. His hair was as red as his brothers', although he seemed younger than them. He had some dirt on his nose. Harry was unsurprised to see him wrapped in a dark green. Smiling, he offered his hand to the other boy.

"Friends call me Augustus Evans- you can too, since we're apparently going to be spending the ride together." They shook hands, and a slightly awkward silence fell over them. Ron was trying to find something to talk about, while Harry was weighing the options of going back to sleep or pulling out his potions book to study more.

"A-are you a muggleborn? It's just that I've never heard of your family, o-or seen you around, not that I care about that sort of thing!" Ron blurted out, face reddening. Harry blinked, not really expecting any sort of conversation. Thinking over the question, he cautiously gave an answer.

"Well, I was raised in the muggle world, but I'm a half-blood. You know, war and all, some kids are bound to get stuck somewhere else. The Weasley family is pureblood, right?"

Ron flushed once more. "Oh. Sorry. And yeah, but we're not purebloods in _that _sense, you know? Anyways, what's it like living with muggles?" Harry felt that no, he did _not _know that sense, and asked Ron just what he meant by that. "Well, we support muggles and muggleborns, and don't go by the old traditions, I guess. My brothers told me about one of them, where you'd sacrifice food and blood in the name of your ancestors. Sounds creepy, to me." Harry raised an eyebrow, but didn't agree or disagree. In his opinion, as long as no one was getting killed off or tortured for no discernable reason, it was generally alright. How could something honouring ancestors be bad? Hm.

"It's.. bad. Wish I had a two magical brothers to bother, or at least talk to."

"Five," Said Ron. He looked a bit down at this, but continued. "I'm the sixth to go to Hogwarts, and my sister Ginny is going next year. I've got a lot of stuff to live up to- my brother Percy was just made prefect, my brother Charlie was head of the Quidditch team, and my brother Bill was Head Boy. They've already left- Charlie and Bill. Fred and George are big pranksters, and everyone likes them. I've got a lot to live up to, I guess." He finished, gazing out the window at the countryside. Harry frowned, and straightened up.

"Well, no one says you have to be like them, or even be better than them. You're, well, a different person. You've got different- different strengths, a different personality, and different dreams. Some they may not have. You make your name, not them. Anyone who says different is putting too much into the concept of family." Ron stared at him, gaping, but quickly recovered with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, mate."

The two of them continued to talk, although the subjects moved to more mundane things, such as Ron's pet rat, or Harry's fat cousin. It was comfortable after that, and the mood was friendly.

"...And you wouldn't believe what he did next! He literally plucked the toffee out of the dirt and just ate it! Didn't brush it off or clean it or even think _that it had been on the ground_! It was nasty!" Harry said, finishing up a tale of many about Dudley. Ron was laughing, clutching his sides.

"Merlin Augustus, your family is _bonkers_. I don't even the twins have done that when they were younger!" He exclaimed. Harry grinned, and conversation quieted down after that. They simply watched the land fly past, dotted with fields and lanes and lakes. Around half-past 12, Harry could hear a cart rolling up the corridor, and opened the door to peer out. A kindly-looking woman was pushing a cart ladened with sweets up the aisle, stopping at each compartment and asking if anyone wanted some sweets. Harry looked towards Ron to see if he wanted anything, but the red-headed boy simply muttered something about sandwiches. Going into the corridor, Harry marveled at the cart. He had never been able to have any candy at the Dursleys that wasn't from school or a pitying teacher. And now, he was presented with magical, delicious, _candy_. His mouth watered at the thought, as will any person's who hasn't experienced the soul-crushing experience of acid-reflux yet. Harry was very, very glad that he still had money left over from his trip to Diagon Alley.

Buying a bit of everything, Harry paid the woman 10 sickles and 12 knuts from his leftover supply. Ron gaped at him as he carried it back in, dumping it on the seat. "Hungry, huh?" He asked, a bit dazed. Harry just grinned at him and offered him pumpkin pasty, which he gladly took. It felt nice, having something to share with someone else. They slowly went through the bought pastries and candies, with Harry trying things such as blood pops, and chocolate frogs. After catching and biting the head off of one, he examined the card that came with it. It had the face of an ancient man on it, with half-moon glasses and a long, silvery beard. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So _this _is Dumbledore." Harry said, his eyes narrowing.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, don't tell me you haven't heard of him! You seem to know enough about everything else. Hey, can I have a frog? I'm trying for Agrippa- cool-" Harry turned over the card, reading. Essentially, his new headmaster had defeated a former dark lord and had a taste for the muggle. Turning it back over, Harry saw that the small figure that once sat there was gone. Shrugging his shoulders, he put it in his pocket to be forgotten.

As him and Ron- who had turned out unsuccessful in his hunt for Agrippa- went through the chocolate frogs, Harry collected more such as Morgana, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. A while later, when they were daring each other to eat suspicious looking beans from Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, the toad-boy from before knocked on the door and came in. He looked near tears, and Harry couldn't help but feel sympathetic. He was wrapped in a dirty brown the colour of loam.

"Sorry to bother," He started, "But have either of you seen a toad? I lost mine, Trevor..." When they shook their heads, the boy wailed, face scrunching up. "He keeps getting away from me! I don't know what to do!" Pursing his lips, Harry tried to think of ways to help the poor boy.

"Has he got any tracking charms on him? That could help." But the boy only miserably shook his head. Harry was about to suggest going to an upper-year for help before his mind sparked with an idea.

"I've got it!" He exclaimed. Pulling out his wand (for appearances of course), he waved it and mumbled some gibberish. In reality, he was commanding fiercely _come Trevor_, to which there seemed to be a response. He grinned at the drain in his chest, and at the sight of the toad now sailing through the air towards them. It was the same colour as the loam boy, strangely, and Harry watched its glow fly towards them through the wall. The boy was looking its way with a joyed expression on his face.

"Trevor!" He exclaimed, pulling the toad out of the air as it came close enough. "Thank you so much! What was that spell?" He said, turning back to Harry.

"Summoning spell. Really useful for locating things, huh?" The boy said his goodbye, and loam boy soon left with his dear toad.

"Don't know why he bothered. If I had a toad, I'd _try _to lose it. 'Course, I have Scabbers, so I can't really talk." Ron said.

"Scabbers?" Harry asked.

In reply, Ron pulled out an old rat from his pocket. It was skinny, and looked sickly. Harry saw it was missing a finger. It also had a glow, but not like Trevor's, who had the same as the loam boy. No, it glowed with a murky pink, nothing near Ron's dark green. Maybe it had to do with them being different species?  
"This is Scabbers. He's useless, and doesn't wake up much except to eat and chew furniture. He was Percy's, but Percy's got his fancy new owl now for being made prefect, and they couldn't aff- I mean, so I got Scabbers." Ron blustered, his ears turning pink. Harry just smiled and waved it off.

"Ron, you don't have to worry about talking about that sort of thing. You see..." Harry looked towards the compartment door before leaning in towards him. "I've never had much. Despite how I might look with these fancy duds, I've probably been living about the same as a house-elf for a good portion of my life. I didn't even know I had any money- muggle and wizarding- until about a month ago." He, of course, did not mention the other house elf-like parts of his life.

Ron seemed to cheer up a bit at that, which probably wasn't a good sign, but Harry ignored it in favor of popping another blood pop in his mouth.

"You know, I tried to turn Scabbers yellow yesterday to make him a little interesting. Spell didn't work though, that's what I get for trusting Fred and George. Here, lemme show you..." He patted his pockets down and eventually pulled out a, quite honestly, ratty looking wand. It was chipped, scuffed, and had part of its core sticking out. "Unicorn hair's sticking out at the end. _Anyways_-" Ron had just raised his wand when the compartment door opened once again. Harry can't help but say he was a bit annoyed at yet another interruption. Standing at the door was a girl with bushy hair and braces, who was already wearing her school robes and uniform. She had a pompous air about her, similar to the one Draco Malfoy had put up in Madame Malkin's.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one." Ah, so that was the loamy boy's name. It fit him.

"I'm afraid we already sent him off with it. you don't need to keep searching." Harry replied. Unfortunately, the bushy-haired girl wasn't listening, and was instead staring at Ron's wand, which was still out.

"Are you going to do magic? Let's see it then." She was about to sit down, but Harry stopped her.

"I'm sorry miss, but I'm afraid you already missed it. My friend here just turned one of his old socks into a rat." He said, smiling once again. Everyone believed something with a smile in front of it. The bushy girl looked disappointed, but believed him; Scabbers looked ragged enough to have once been a sock, and he was barely moving. After she left, Harry spun to Ron and waved his hands, urging him to get on with the spell. The other boy looked startled, but continued.

"_Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow._" The ginger waved his wand, but nothing happened except for Scabbers burrowing into the Bertie Bott's box. They both were disappointed this time.

"I guess it's not a real spell." Ron muttered.

"Most spells are in Latin or old Anglo-Saxon anyway," Harry said, trying to comfort his friend. "I'm sure your brothers were just pulling your leg." The two sat in silence after this, watching Scabbers gorge on jelly beans, no matter how disgusting.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said suddenly, "What house do you think you'll be in?"

"Gryffindor, probably. All my family's gone there. Don't know what will happen if I'm not. Imagine if they put me in _Slytherin _of all places!" Harry frowned.

"What's wrong with Slytherin? They're ambitious right?"

"And _slimy_. All of them end up as dark wizards, and they're just BAD." Ron said. Harry sighed, and reminded himself he should have expected this sort of thing when Blaise himself went off on Gryffindors. Damn prejudices.

"But all the houses have good qualities, even Slytherin," Harry argued. "Hufflepuffs are loyal and hard-working and dedicated, which means they're good friends and students. Gryffindors are brave and "chivalrous" and daring, which means they're likely to go into dangerous situations to help people. Ravenclaws are smart and well-read, which means they'll know lots of useful information. and Slytherins are cunning and ambitious and natural leaders, which means they'll try as hard as they can to reach their goal and can slide through problems. Every one has merits, and you can't stereotype a whole house on some who come out of it. Like your family! You were telling me Percy isn't all that great of a person, and _he's _in Gryffindor!" Harry finished, fired up. He wouldn't stand it when it was Blaise doing it, and he wouldn't stand it now!

Ron looked speechless, and opened his mouth to say something, but must have decided against it. Another silence fell over them, this one tense, and stayed until a group of boys entered some time later. Harry instantly recognised the middle one instantly- it was Draco Malfoy. The two surrounding him must have been Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, his self-proclaimed bodyguards. Off to the side, Harry could see Blaise with an annoyed look on his face. When he spotted Harry, it changed to one of relief, not that anyone else noticed.

"Augustus, there you are! We've been looking for you the whole ride! Why are you hanging here with this- riffraff?" Malfoy exclaimed, sneering at Ron. The Weasley reddened, and looked ready to pounce at the blond, but Harry held him back. "Weasley obviously- ginger hair, hand-me-down robes, and freckles. You really shouldn't hang around this sort, Augustus."

"_Draco_," Harry started, gritting his teeth, "You know how we met, and Blaise had told you all these things about me, and I looked nothing like what you probably expected? How about we treat this like that? Ron seems to be a genuinely good person, and I'm sure you two would have fun arguing over Quidditch. And I'm sure if this is some _**family feud**_, you two are _**smart enough **_not to let it cloud judgement over _someone you just met_. Especially since you two _aren't your families_." He enunciated each part, glaring at them both. Ron shrunk away, and Draco even paled- somehow.

"Augustus, you would probably be a wonderful marriage counselor." Blaise said idly, slipping into the compartment. "Draco, stop copying daddy and just sit down. There's nothing wrong with conversing with someone else, no matter how much money they don't have." Harry gave him a relieved smile, which he returned with a smirk. Harry sank back into his seat, Blaise settling in beside him. Ron uneasily sat as well, and Crabbe and Goyle bunched in next to him, barely leaving any space. Draco took the remaining seat.

"So," Harry said cheerfully, "Anyone want a blood pop?"

* * *

The rest of the ride was tense, but conversation did occur, no matter how strained. Draco and Ron did indeed argue over Quidditch, and at one point Harry managed to get them to talk about their upcoming professors without any blowouts. But, as the sky was darkening and they were coming nearer and nearer to their stop, voices withered away and they ended up changing in silence. All in all, it had turned out very well. Harry could see mountains and trees out the window, which made a lovely site under the violet sky.

They put on their school robes and vests, both of which had the Hogwarts crest sewn onto them. Harry guessed they would change to their house crest once they were sorted. Looking around him, he could tell the differences in the boys were obvious. Ron's were too short for him, and his sneakers peeked out underneath. Draco's and Blaise's were obviously made of higher-end materials, although Blaise's seemed to be more on the practical side if their sheen said anything. Cra-_Vincent _and Gregory's both fit them well, and looked much like Harry's, which were probably made of cotton or some such. He supposed it showed how different their backgrounds were, in a way. Or their parents' preferences.

A voice echoed through the train, signalling they had reached their destination, and that it was now time to disembark from the train. Their luggage was to be left on the train, and will be picked up separately. The six of them glanced at each other, some nervous, some annoyed. It didn't take much for them to walk out into the fluctuating crowd. People were pushing themselves out the doors and onto a small, darkly lit platform. A lamp was bobbing in the air, although once Harry looked closer he could see it was held by a giant of a man.

"Firs' years!" "Firs' years here!" The man bellowed. Tripping and stumbling about, the group of first years followed the giant man down a steep and narrow path. Nothing could be seen on either side, not even with Harry's eyes, and he made sure the others stayed near him. He didn't know if it was Ron or Blaise clutching his right arm.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sighto' Hogwarts in a sec, kids." The man called in front. Harry could only pinpoint him by the swinging lantern he held. The path widened suddenly on the edge of a lake. Across the other side, clinging and dominating a mountain on the other side, Harry could see an enormous mountain, with sparkling windows and dozens of towers. It was beautiful, and shrouded in an amazing white Harry had never seen. It... wasn't pure, but it was something.  
"Four to a boat!" The giant man called, jolting most everyone out of their trance. "No more than four to a boat!" Looking down from the castle, Harry could dimly see that the water in front of them was dotted with boats. Dragging Blaise and presumably Ron to the nearest boat, they sat down in wait. A few moments later, Draco near tumbled onto them, blushing lightly. And then, by some magic, they were off, across the lake.

* * *

Harry was nervous. No, not nervous. Anxious. They had finally reached the castle after some time cruising in the boats. Harry had made a few balls of light so they weren't in complete darkness, but that seemed to make it worse somehow. Draco and Ron had started glaring at each other again (_Why do I do this to myself_, he had groaned), and Harry swore he could see things moving under the water. Things definitely not fish in nature.

When they had reached solid ground, the giant man took them up a hill to a monstrous oak door that opened. A stern-looking woman named McGonagall had taken them from the giant's (who happened to be named Hagrid, he found out) care and led them to the entrance hall. She had, instead of taking them where the other students obviously were, had led them to a smaller room off to the side. That was where they were now, and honestly, Harry was unnerved. Why couldn't they just get this over and be done with it? It didn't make sense to have all this ceremony for just putting people in their houses.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," The stern Professor McGonagall said, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you must be sorted into your houses. While you are here, your house will be your family within Hogwarts, and will have classes with you, sleep with you, and spend free time in your house common room. As such, the Sorting ceremony is highly important.

The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history-" Harry pointedly looked at Ron at this point, who huffed at that. "-and each has produced its own share of outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your victories will earn you house points, and breaking of the rules will lose you points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded with the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be an asset to the house that becomes yours." She looked out on their sea of faces, seeing many familiar traits in them. _Longbottom needs to straighten up his cloak, and Weasley needs to clean up his face, _she thought.

"The Sorting ceremony will take place in front of the school, so I suggest you tidy yourselves up until then. I shall return when everything is ready. Please wait quietly." She left the chamber, entering the door off to the side. Harry swallowed quietly, and tried to straighten his hair a bit. It was impossible; even with the extra length he had managed to grow, it was still as untidy as ever.

"Here." A voice said near him. It was a pale girl, who was offering him a hairband. He accepted it gratefully, smiling in thanks. She turned back to whatever conversation she had been having as he tied up what he could.

"Augustus, that ponytail looks _pitiful_. It's smaller than the tail on a goat." Blaise said.

"Oh shut it, you. You weren't born with perpetual nightmare hair. Ron, are you alright? You're looking a bit sick." Ron indeed did look sick, his skin paler than normal, making his freckles stand out.

"Fred said they sorted us with some sort of test. Said it hurt a lot, but I think he was joking. But what if they _do _test us?" He said, rubbing his arm a bit. Harry blinked.

"Ron, we're first years. I'm pretty if they tested us to put us in a house, half of us wouldn't even be able to do anything. They just put a raggedy old hat on our heads that talks to us. Yes, I'm serious stop staring at me." Ron gained some more colour to his face, and looked away at nothing. Everyone was whispering to themselves, and a few more people had sneaked into their misfit group. The loam boy from before, Neville, had joined them and was nervously discussing herbs with Vincent, who apparently loved herbology. The bushy girl from before was whispering spells very fast as Blaise amusedly corrected her from time to time. Harry himself was asking Draco about who the other children were. Then, something or the other happened that inexplicably made seven people behind him scream- and made him jump about a foot in the air.

"What-?" He started peeking around. He relaxed when he saw a handful of ghosts floating through the back wall. Silver-tinted and just a touch transparent, they almost put on a show with what they were doing. They talked to each other, practically ignoring the first-years. They appeared to be arguing of all things, about some other ghost, before they "noticed" the first-years.

"New students!" One exclaimed excitedly, smiling widely at them all. "About to be sorted, I surmise?" A few nodded silently. "Hope I see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, and a spectacular one."

"Move along now, Friar, the Sorting's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts followed her order and drifted away through the opposite wall.

"Follow me, you all." His anxious feeling returning with a vengeance, Harry moved forward, his legs feeling heavier than steel. The others were still with him, and looked as nervous as he, which he supposed was a cold comfort. They walked out of the chamber, back into the entrance hall, and finally through the double doors leading to the Great Hall.

It was as beautiful as the outside of Hogwarts. Thousands of candles hovered, bathed in glows of all colours, over four long tables. At the end of the room, he could see a fifth, where the staff were seated. Golden plates and goblets laid upon the tables, glittering in the light. In front of the staff table sat a small stool. Professor McGonagall led them up there as hundreds of faces stared at them in the eerie light. Harry looked upward and saw the night sky, unblocked by stone or glass. He could hear the bushy-haired girl whispering about it being bewitched to look like the sky outside.

He quickly turned back to the ceremony, however, when Professor McGonagall put a wizard's hat upon the stool. It was ancient, showing patches and frays. Like the castle, it was wrapped in a pure white colour, unique. It would have never been let into the Dursley household. _Please tell me we don't have to put that on our heads_, Harry internally groaned.

There were a few moments of silence, before what was seemingly a tear near the bottom of the hat opened wide- and from it, a voice started to sing.

It was a tedious song, in Harry's opinion, one sprinkled with worrisome things. "There's nothing hidden in your head the sorting hat can't see"- Did that mean that raggedy old thing was going to be reading his mind? He certainly didn't _want _it reading his mind, no matter what purpose it served, thank you very much. And why wouldn't anyone be afraid- this decided practically the next seven years of their life! How they were treated, who they associated most with, even their grades, since teachers were bound to have favorites! It was a travesty, this _hat_.

The hall burst into applause regardless of Harry's inner monologuing, and soon quieted down. Professor McGonagall stepped up wielding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." She said. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails went up, and went through the ritual of putting on the hat. After a moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the travesty. A table on the right with a yellow and black banner hanging above it cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down.

"Bones, Susan!"

HUFFLEPUFF! again, and another new badger scurrying to the table to sit.

It continued in much this style, with people being sent to the various tables. Draco whispered to him occasionally about who this was or which family they came from. It helped Harry forget the nauseous feeling building up in his stomach a bit. When the E's were passed with no "Augustus Evans" called, both Ron and Draco stared at him confusedly. He simply murmured "Said my friends called me that, never said it was my name." and ignored any attempts they made at poking the answer out of him. Five Ravenclaws (including Bushy, whose name was Hermione Granger), two Hufflepuffs, three Gryffindors, and four Slytherins later, Draco went up to the stool. The hat had barely touched his head when it yelled out "SLYTHERIN!". The pale boy swaggered over the table on the far right, where Vincent and Gregory were sitting near the staff's table. Not many left 'till P's now. He was sorely regretting giving the others his alias, because he was just thinking of the consequences. They might understand, right? How he didn't want the stares and uncomfortable questions and things said that he had dealt with before. How he just wanted normal friends.

He didn't realise he was shivering until Blaise tugged his sleeve, hissing at him to calm down.

Moon, Nott, and Parkinson passed, all going to Slytherin. The Patil twins, the pair he had seen on the train platform, went to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw separately. Perks went to Hufflepuff. Then, the dreaded moment-

"Potter, Harry!" The hall went dead silent.

"Ron, remember what we've been talking about, family and legacies and all that." He whispered quickly. Then he stepped forward.

The hall broke out into little whispers that were as loud as normal tones in his ear. It was unbearable.

"Potter, she said!"

"He's a bit small, don't you think?"

"_The _Harry Potter?"

"I can't see his scar!"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped on his head and over his eyes was the craning eyes of hundreds of people and dumbstruck faces of Ron and quite a few Slytherin firsties. Damn Blaise. The next thing, the back of the hat. He sat, and waited for something to happen.

"_My, you're going to be a difficult one."_ A voice said in his ear. Harry would have jumped if it weren't for him already wringing his hands. "_Very difficult... You've got some courage, most definitely, though you've yet to put it to much, I can see. Although I can't blame you- Albus obviously wasn't very.. __**wise **__with his choices_," the voice continued, dipping into criticising tones. Ah, yes, Harry had forgot about the whole "mind-reading" part. He was still wholly Not Okay with that.

"_Don't worry Mr. Potter, I won't go spilling any secrets you have, no matter how interesting,_ the voice said. _You've got quite a good mind here, with a good bit of elasticity in it. A nice thirst here too, to prove yourself. Or maybe it's to change- who know what you're planning, hmmm? You certainly have the means to, with a well like that... Now, where shall I put you?"_

Harry wringed his hands harder, and the only thought coming to his mind was that it just wasn't very polite to dive into little children's minds no matter what people said and that it was just invasive in every way and that maybe they should revise how they do this?

"_Child, I'll have you know that I've examined thousands of minds that have gone through these halls and not spoken of any." _The voice- Sorting Hat?- said irritably. "_And for you to be in such a tizz over it is just unreasonable. Now calm down and-"_

_It is not unreasonable!_ Harry thought._ Not wanting anyone or anything digging into your mind and wading through your memories for just a sorting is a perfectly reasonable opinion, and I'm sure others wouldn't like it if they actually took a moment to think about it! It's a complete violation of privacy, especially to those __**who don't want things known!**_

"_And as you just said, it is just for the sorting, nothing else, so why be so bothered about it!? It hardly matters! It will be over as soon as you let me focus and sort you!" _ By now, the students were starting to shift in their seats, and the teachers were becoming more and more worried. About three minutes had passed.

"It always matters." Harry muttered, not even bothering with the strange think-talking anymore. The Sorting Hat muttered some things in response that should probably not be said to children, no matter what language, and before Harry could respond, it yelled out "SLYTHERIN!" He took it off his head and passed it to Professor McGonagall.

McGonagall would later swear she heard it wishing mercy upon Snape.

The hall was deadly silent as Harry walked to the Slytherin table, until a few Slytherins started clapping. Soon, the whole table and a few unsorted people were clapping heartily, while the others were doing a half-ass job of it. He sat next to Draco, who had cleared a spot. Harry could have kissed him if that weren't completely gross. He was slightly scared to look towards the other students, so looked at the staff table instead. Professor Snape was next to an empty chair, and looked as though he'd been slapped with a damp fish. He was staring straight ahead, not even paying attention to the sorting anymore. A man next to him in an atrocious purple turban was looking at Harry as though he were an interesting bug under a microscope. Harry scowled, and fiercely thought _unravel_, making a wrapping from the man's turban slip out. The professor started panicking, trying to fix it, and diverted his stare from Harry. Thank God.

There were only a few people left. A dark boy named Dean Thomas was sorted into Gryffindor, and a mousy girl named Lisa Turpin was put into Ravenclaw. After that, it was Ron's turn. He was looking green by now, but there was something in his eyes Harry couldn't identify.

Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head, where it sat. Harry wondered if it was talking to Ron as it did to him. Ron sat there for a long moment, longer than expected, until the Sorting Hat opened its tear-mouth and Shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The Hall was once again stunned into silence, although their thawing took much less time than it did for Harry. Ron dazedly walked to the Hufflepuff table where a few other smiled and welcomed him. Across the hall, Harry could see the others of the Weasley clan gaping wider than fishes. Finally, Blaise was sorted into Slytherin, and all the first-years were patted and patched. Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his seat at the Staff table, and Professor McGonagall took away the stool and the Hat. The ancient wizard was beaming down at his students jovially, like he hadn't just sat there while many of them were having a panic attack over what a dingy old hat would say.

"Welcome!" He said, spreading his arms wide, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!

He sat back down, and everyone clapped and cheered. Harry did it out of politeness, but was more focused on not looking at the man's eye-watering robes or colour. His robes were neon pink, with orange stars, and he was wrapped in a startling yellow colour.

"That worries me a bit," Harry commented. Many of the Slytherins around him nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I'd say so. You want some potatoes, _Augustus_?" Draco said beside him. The other boy was loading food onto his plate- food?

Glancing around, Harry finally noticed that the platters and bowls on the table had filled with delicious-smelling, enticing food. His mouth started watering.

"Indeed _Augustus_, some potatoes?" Blaise sniggered out beside him. Harry sighed, and elbowed him in the ribs. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Tadaaa. c: This was so hard to write guys but i love the train and sorting scenes. I tried to keep the interactions the same, although they might have turned out different because duh AU. Mmmy update schedule may be a little more erratic than "just a day late" soon because I start school on Tuesday. :C Hopefully though, Ill be able to keep them relatively stable. I'm also planning a Star Trek 2009 one-shot, if thats anyones thing. You can keep an eye out for it in the next few weeks.

Reply time!

**Sazq **- Always lovely to see you reply! And same here, I absolutely adore severitus fics (i think thats what people call them?)! Draco is very silly and doesnt understand why Harry does the things he do.

**PaC **- ...I would take what you said as honest criticism, but the way you said it and the way your tone came off, you're honestly just seeming to be a complete asshole. If you dont like the story, stop reading it. Dont bother finishing it, and dont review if you have nothing that would genuinely help improve it. Its four chapters in, with probably only a fifth of the major characters introduced. You are literally expecting a four-chaptered in-progress story to explain every little blunder a character makes. And yeah, Harry's shit with the letter was a plot hole, but i enjoyed writing it so i'm not going to change it, especially when it can easily be made _not into one_. No one else seemed to mind. And Harry is an _**abused child. Abused children dont beat down their abusers because "theyve finally had enough". Harry has lived with it for ten years, with few occasions of interference. He is going to be quiet, or scared of things, or look before jumping and then crawl down instead. It might change, but not when hes still living with his abusers and having to bow to them. **_If you want a BAMF I-Stand-Up-to-Everyone-at-Once Harry story, go for the harem or magical creature stories. Not this. Although, since you're a guest of all things, theres probably no chance of you seeing this or reading. To which I salute and welcome others.


	5. EXPLANATION AND CHAPTER 5

AN AND REPLY AT BOTTOM I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER ONLY DESPAIR GRAZIE

SLIGHTLY EDITED 30.9.14

* * *

"_Harry Potter_! Of all people, it's you- the kid Blaise was _teasing _us with for years! He told us you were adopted- why did you tell us he was adopted? Why didn't you tell _me_?" Harry felt the need to sigh for about the 20th time today. They were heading to the common room, and Draco had yet to let up. The pale boy had stayed quiet during the feast about it, if only because the upper-years were watching them to avoid screw-ups. They had awkwardly passed the time talking about their family until Harry had accidentally flung some potatoes at Draco after a mudblood comment. _Accidentally_. Dessert was spent in silence while the Malfoy attempted to clean his hair. A third-year took pity on him and cast _scourgify _on him. When Dumbledore had made the food disappear and announced the end of the feast (along with a few alarming things- _corridor of death_?), they had been rounded up like sheep by the prefects, and were now being led into the dungeons. The minute the prefects had their backs turned, Draco had started hissing to Harry as though he were a bona-fide snake, and would not stop tugging on his robe. Blaise had decided that this was the most amusing thing to happen in the world, and refused to stop snickering no matter how much Harry elbowed him in the ribs. There was sure to be a bruise with his knobby elbows, which Harry took as a consolation revenge.

"For this exact reason, imbecile." He muttered under his breath. The Malfoy failed to hear him, off in his own little mutterings now. One of the other firsties- Theodore Nott, if he remembered right, a weedy boy with dark hair- was giving Harry a sympathetic look, but made no move to help from his place next to Pansy Parkinson. The girl in question was going on and on about how none of the boys had any fashion sense, and how their hair was atrocious. She peered especially hard at him and Greg when she said this. He didn't know how to break it to her that his hair was an untameable mane of frustration. He also didn't know how to break it to her that she probably shouldn't be talking with that atrocious bob of hers.

"You know, I suppose this explains why you defended Weasley on the train. Light morals, Boy-Who-Lived and all that." Draco said out loud, scrutinizing Harry. The prefect in front of them twitched, and Harry thought he heard her snort. Harry felt the need to as well. "It's a wonder you got into Slytherin, with you saying even a blood-traitor could be worth something.." Harry grit his teeth and had to use all his will not to turn the boy's hair red and completely ingrown right then.

This was Hell. Pure, unadulterated 11-year old Hell.

It was five more agonising minutes of, "Why didn't you tell us," and "Light little baby," before they were near the common room. When Draco started talking about how his parents had both been Gryffindor, so this was just _such _a surprise, Harry snapped at him. He pivoting in front of Draco and shoving his face as close to the other boy's as he could.

"Have you considered maybe I didn't tell you because of _this_? That maybe I didn't want you going on about the Dark Lord, or my parents, or bloody statuses or fame the whole time? Consider the _reasoning _before questioning, Malfoy!" He growled. He gave him a small shock, enough to sting him, enough to feel; Draco jumped and rocked back, fixing his shirt and robe with an uneasy scowl.

"Sorry," He said, not sounding like he really meant it. The other Slytherins thankfully ignored this exchange.

Finally, they reached the common room. Or, what Harry assumed was the common room. Both the prefects had stopped at a dead-end, and didn't seem they would be turning around anytime soon. Were they... were they testing them or something? Thankfully, that wasn't the case as they turned around and began to speak to the first-years.

"This is the passageway to the Slytherin common room," The girl announced, looking at each of them sternly, "You are not to give out the password to any outside our house, and will need to remember the way. Passwords are changed every two weeks. Our current one is 'pureblood'". With that, the wall seemed to flicker, then fade, revealing a room behind it. The Prefects didn't even react as the first-years' eyes bugged out. They were shoved through it, the prefects stepping in last. Once they were all in, the wall seemed to solidify again.

Harry was constantly amazed at magic, even after all these years.

The upper-years were already there; some of them looked up when they entered, but most simply focused on their conversations. Harry supposed they took a shorter route to get here. The prefects must have taken a longer route so they would arrive last. Some people took to seats, while others stood or camped out on the floor. The first-year boys quickly claimed two of the loveseats, while the girls took over the chairs. Greg and Millicent were left to stand or settle on the floor, but they didn't seem to mind. The older students took up the majority of the table chairs, talking among themselves about various things. Most of them seemed to be discussing vacations or who-did-what. It was fairly uninteresting to a little boy like Harry, so he plopped down on top of Blaise's feet. The dark-skinned boy started to play with his hair, most likely trying to neaten it. Nobody seemed to care that they were just sitting there... waiting, for something. Maybe their Head-of-House was going to show up?

The others above him were talking about the sorting now. Apparently, there were some shockers this year, besides him and Ron... But, this left him with little to do, as he only knew the trimmings of the families they were discussing. Perhaps he could convince one of the, hm, neutral upper years to give him a proper crash-course in Wizarding Families? He'd have to file that option for later.

Scanning the room, it was obvious that the Slytherin House very much valued appearance. There were four stairways on the right wall, leading to who knows where. The common room was dotted with chairs, couches, and tables, giving most everyone a spot to sit or study. And taking up most of the back wall was a huge fireplace, roaring with warmth. Harry and the others were seated right near it. Everything had intricate designs, from the fireplace to the doors. Covering almost every surface were carved snakes. Some glowed, some had jewels for eyes, and some he could barely notice. A great many of the ones on the fireplace seemed to be a mixture of the three, and were gossiping between themselves. This being a magical school (and him being a wizardling with limited knowledge), Harry took it as a normal occurrence and said nothing. Speaking of paintings, various were ones scattered about the walls. One near a stairway depicted the depths of some body of water. Harry could see what might have been a tentacle at the edge of the frame. Another, this one closer to the entrance, had the castle looking as though it were just built yesterday. It looked like it might have been painted from the lake shore. Over the fireplace, there sat a strange man, with a bookshelf behind him and a snake around his neck. He had curly, dark hair and grey eyes.

Theo caught him staring at it, and leaned down from his seat. "They say that's Slytherin himself," He whispered. "No one can really say for sure since he doesn't talk, but it's a nice theory.." Harry nodded his head absently, studying the man's face. He was watching them all, his expression blank. There were lines on his face, but even those gave away nothing. _Just what is he thinking?_ Harry wondered to himself. But, he continued to look around, dragging his eyes from the portrait. A slight movement caught his attention, and he turned sharply, eyes narrowing. Blaise frowned down at him, but he didn't notice. There, in the dark corner- there was something, a person. He couldn't see them, but their silhouette was lit by the deep red glow surrounding them. The shade was familiar, but he couldn't remember from where. Maybe it was someone he had seen someone in the streets? Of course it didn't change the fact that they were hiding in the common room of a bunch of students. They weren't doing anything, but... It's a bit too suspicious to just stand in the corner watching a bunch of adolescents. And creepy. Very creepy.

He was about to say something when the person emerged from the shadows, revealing... Professor Snape? He was glowering severely at them, observing them all chatter and joke around. Many students took this moment to high-tail it to their dorms, and others who noticed him quickly followed. The first-years, left with nowhere to go, cowered (subtly, of course) in their spots. Even Draco, with his haughtiness, looked nervous. Professor Snape nodded at the two prefects who had stayed behind.

"Ms. Farley, Mr. Albret, thank you for your assistance. You may retire." The two of them quickly left, relieved looks on their faces. Farley had a passing thought that looking after these brats really wasn't worth the paranoia over the possibility of an impromptu duel before she closed the door to her room. Albret had a passing thought that he was just glad not to be near Snape anymore.

He turned back to the first-years, staring at each of them critically. Harry wanted to shift in his spot when the man looked at him, but kept his stance and stared back. Professor Snape narrowed his eyes and curled his lip a bit, but moved on. It was discouraging, in a way, a silent message to tell them to _sit and stay_.

"I am your Head of House, Severus Snape," Snape started, "I will be teaching you in the art of potions in the coming years. This being said, there are _rules _you must follow if your coming years are to be pleasant in any sense of the word." He said. Why is that everyone in Slytherin loved to focus on Harry? And here he thought he wasn't "Delinquent Boy of Number 4" anymore. "First, any and all personal arguments will be kept within this house. We cannot allow the other houses to see a weak spot, as any chink in the armor will be exploited. As thus, we are to keep up an external image- a blank slate, if you will. Do not let them see their effects or your anger- we are pariahs enough. Second, if any of you are to go outside the common room, you must not be alone. There has been a record of... assaults whenever one of our own are alone, and not much has been done to prevent them. So personal measures must be instituted." He paused, staring out at their faces. All of them, Slytherins by family. They would know what he meant, from whatever Lucius and the others had told them. The stories of Narcissa being ambushed by those seventh-year boys. Goyle and Crabbe having to follow him and Lucius around just to discourage the Gryffindors.

Almost all of them.

"Along with this, I expect you all to adhere to the school rules," He said, finding his voice, "Any infractions, pranks, or fighting will be punished, most likely with a detention involving scrubbing potion cauldrons until 11. If any of you are having problems, please do not hesitate to come to me. Now," He said, turning towards the stairs. "Due to the extra space in the dungeon, you are able to have relatively separate rooms. There will be three boys or girls to each room. If any of you try to enter the other sex's rooms, I _will _know. First year's dormitories are down the stairs on the right. I will see you all in the morning when I hand you your schedules. Good night." With that, he dramatically turned, his robe flaring out behind him as he left through the passageway.

Harry blinked, and peered up at the others. Draco, Pansy, Vincent and Greg actually looked worried of all things. Harry could certainly understand why. After all, being harassed to the point of being assaulted pariahs wasn't... exactly ethical, really. Especially with kids who didn't even properly understand things like "assault" just yet. Was this school really this horrid?

He pushed that worrisome train of thought aside and rose with the others. They stretched, stiff from sitting for such a long time (again), and went down the stairwell that the Professor had pointed out. It was dimly lit by scones that cast a blue light over everything. When they reached the bottom, they could see two hallways dotted with doors, about 4 on each side. They went down the one marked _Year One._ With a few glances among each other, the girls silently took the left, and the boys the right. Harry hesitated, before taking the room closest to the stairs. Blaise followed, along with Theodore, surprisingly. When he looked inquiringly at the Nott boy, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Crabbe and Goyle snore louder than trolls." Harry felt a fleeting sense of pity for Draco, before remembering the wish to make him an ingrown hair factory. Then the feeling turned to satisfaction.

The room was sparsely decorated, compared to the common room. Sure, there were some huge-ass snakes carved into the fireplace in the middle of the wall, and there was a door to what Harry assumed was a bathroom, but that was about it. Besides two desks on either side of the fireplace, there were just their beds and luggage. Harry's was closest to the fireplace, along with the empty owl cage. He hoped Hedwig was doing well in the Owlery.

They said their good-nights to the girls and the other boys, and closed the door. Blaise and Theo went to their respective trunks, making sure their things were still there and getting ready for the night. As Blaise was pulling out a pair of pajamas, he cheerfully said, "See! That wasn't so bad, was it? None of the doom and gloom you were moaning about, Harry." He grinned at the other boy, who rolled his eyes in return. They took their turns attending to themselves, and soon they were all in bed, saying their good-nights once more. Theo seemed to easily slip into dreams, but Harry was having trouble. From his spot in bed, Blaise sleepily glanced over at Harry and asked, "You have the packages my mother sent, right? I don't want you to still have to use those... _things _from before." Harry nodded silently, and the rest of the night passed quietly, with him staring up at his canopy as the sounds of snores drifted through the wall.

* * *

Harry yawned behind his hand as he passed an upper-year the jug of milk. As an early riser, he was up before all his year-mates no matter how little sleep he got, and had taken the advantage to use the bathroom and get to the Great Hall earlier. Luckily for him, Millicent Bulstrode seemed to be the same, and they amiably walked to the Great Hall together. She was sitting next to him now, eating a bowl of oatmeal. The only ones in here were a few professors who were milking their cups of coffee and upper-year students used to the grind. Many of the Slytherin upper-years were up and about, although a good number looked ready to drop their heads on the table. He could spot a few that were possibly in the same boat as him, but he was honestly more focused on the pancakes he had swiped from a plate. They were fluffy, warm, and heaven in his mouth. He never had the chance to make some at the Dursleys without them being inhaled by Dudley, so this was a rare moment of delight. He slowly ate them, making sure he didn't give himself a stomach-ache, and went over his transfigurations text again. From what he could gather, most transfigurations, when applying to object-to-object, used the same base spell with variations in movements or pronunciation. But a lot of it was based in _will_. You needed to _will _the object to turn into a silver needle, or a feather duster, or a chair. You couldn't just expect it to turn into one with just a spell- you needed your mind to focus upon it.

Harry had a feeling he was going to ace transfiguration.

He was digging into his second pancake and a glass of orange juice when the hall started to actually fill up, people trudging in with mussed hair and irritated looks. Draco and Blaise walked in, sleep in their eyes. They spotted him, and propped themselves in front of him.

"Merlin, how are you two up this early? Everything's still blurry for me." Blaise complained. Draco mumbled something that might have been agreement and grabbed a few pieces of toast. Harry shrugged, and marked the page he had stopped at in his book. Commanding _time_, he could see it was around 8.30. Class wouldn't start for another hour, at least. Looking back towards the door, he spotted a group of 'Puffs walking in, all short and bubbly. Among them, he could see a red head of hair. Putting his fork down, he jumped up, waving off the other's questions and staring intensely at them. It was Ron.

Circling the table, he jogged over to where the other boy was. Ron had slowed to a stop near the end of the Ravenclaw when he saw Harry coming, a sour expression on his face.

"What do you want?" He asked, eyeing the other boy uneasily as he rushed up to him.

"I just- I wanted-" Harry stumbled, trying to think of what to say. He certainly wasn't going to apologise, but he didn't know what else to do in a situation like this. What was he supposed to say? Harry shifted uncomfortably, ears pinkening, and grabbed the cuff of Ron's robes. He pulled him out of the hall, and into a tributary corridor. "...I wanted to stay friends." He finished lamely, letting Ron go. "Even if we're in different houses." Ron's face scrunched up.

"And why should I be friends with you, when you didn't even tell me who you really were? How do I know I can trust you, especially since-" He cut himself off, scowling. Harry flinched, and his ire rose.

"W-well I wasn't about to just come out that I was Harry bloody Potter was I?" He snapped. "I wanted to make a friend who wasn't shiny-eyed at meeting the Boy-Who-Lived is all. And I'm still the person you met on the train Ron- I'm just wearing a lot more green and silver now. And- and you know how the Hat took so long sorting me?" He said with a burst of inspiration, "It's because it couldn't decide! Said my ambition was the biggest reason for me going there. So I'm not _slimy _or _evil_." He finished. Ron looked down, still frowning, but didn't argue.

"I still don't know how I can trust you, Harry. You-you lied about something pretty big. I wouldn't have gone insane at it."

"I know that now, it's just..." He trailed off. "I wanted a friend."

Ron sighed, and scratched at the back of his head. "Look Harry, I can't.. I can't forgive you so soon. I'll.. think about it. Talk to me later, yeah?" Harry nodded mutely, and they went back into the Great Hall. A few people were staring curiously at them, and he unconsciously straightened his back, the despondent expression on his face morphing to a calm one. He nodded once more to Ron, who headed to the Hufflepuff table. When he went back to the Slytherin table, everyone looked at him like he was insane. He just stared back until they averted their eyes. Everyone else kept at it.

"What was that?" Blaise asked, concerned. He just shook his head.

* * *

Professor Snape had handed them their schedule a bit before the end of breakfast, and it was of course only the basics. Herbology every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Charms every Tuesday and Thursday, Transfiguration Monday and Thursday. Astronomy, Wednesday night. History of magic and potions were his only single classes, and both were on Friday.

The classes were fairly easy, in a sense. Herbology dealt with the care and classifications of plants, which was fairly interesting to Harry. He had, unfortunately in a sense, been working with plants since a young age, and grew to like them despite their connotations. Professor Sprout, a dumpy woman with a cheery face, had praised and given him house points multiple times already for his caution with the plants and answered questions. He near blushed when she did. For the first few classes, they had handled Devil's Snare, a strange species of vine that was repulsed by bright light. It was difficult handling them in such a place like the greenhouses. They had the class with the Hufflepuffs, which made things a tad awkward for him, but he tried his best to be civil whenever he saw Ron. He was still waiting for an answer.

The first class of Charms, the teacher, a diminutive man named Flitwick, had squeaked and nearly fallen off his stool. It was highly embarrassing. Their first class had consisted mostly of theory, and attempting the scouring charm. After that experience, Harry was infinitely grateful for the existence of simple showers and preferred to keep Theo at arms' length when his wand was out. Whenever he pointed it near Harry, he's dive behind Blaise to avoid another "full-body cleanse".

History of Magic was easily the most boring class. The teacher, Professor Binns, was rumoured to have died at his desk, and had risen and just continued teaching. He spoke in a monotone, droning voice, and only talked about the Goblin Wars. Many of the others in the class, which was composed of Gryffindors and Slytherins, fooled around or slept. Harry _would _have taken notes, but declared it pointless after the first few minutes. Instead, he read various books he had picked out from the library or passed notes with Blaise. Speaking of such, Hogwarts had a magnificent library. Shelf after shelf filled with books and tomes, lining the walls and floor. You couldn't even see the back of it from the entrance. So far, Harry had found the specific sections for history, charms, and magical creatures. It was paradise for a bookworm like him. He constantly saw the girl from the train in there- Hermione Granger, he thinks- reading in the corner, alone.

Defense of the Dark Arts was... of mixed points. The classroom smelled of garlic, and the teacher- the turbaned man from the feast, whose name was Quirrell- constantly stuttered. He claimed his turban was from an African prince, but Harry greatly doubted him, as it simply _stank _of magic. The stuff swirled around it like a smog, flowing from a poisonous red to a lemon to black to even a weak green at some points. It made Harry sick looking at it, and even gave him a fierce headache. He was thinking of scrounging up some painkillers if it didn't stop.

The class itself was very strange. Quirrell would go on and on about this or that dark entity, and then switch topics. If someone asked a question, there was a 50% chance of his stutter getting even thicker and him refusing to answer, or it disappearing and him going into a "lecture mode". It was confusing to no end.

Transfigurations turned out to be like nothing Harry expected. His first lesson on Monday was startling, to say the least.

* * *

_Harry walked in, Blaise and Draco behind him and arguing. Vincent and Greg were closely behind those two, with a few of the girls as well. Many of them had decided to come when they left breakfast early. He didn't ask what the tiff was about, and didn't try to involve them in a conversation of his own; after his blunder with Ron, he had no urge to talk. The classroom was down an offshoot hall from the Great Hall, and was very large. It was decorated sparsely, the walls bare and ceiling naked. It fit the Professor, he supposed; no-nonsense woman with a serious bearing. Windows took up much of the front wall, and a chalkboard the rest. There were lines of desks, with one large one that was obviously Professor McGonagall's. On top of it, besides some papers and quills, was a good-sized cat that was watching them as they entered. It was a tabby cat, although Harry noticed some strange markings on its face. While the others claimed some seats, he went up to it, curious. Did Professor McGonagall have a pet cat? Maybe it was a kneazle, or familiar, like some of Mrs. Figg's were. It certainly had the glow for it- a nice, soft orange-yellow that reminded him of tangerines. He smiled down at it, petting it a few times. It near-seemed to endure it, but did nudge his hand a little. He patted it on the head one last time before going to sit with the others. _

"_Harry! There you are! Which do you think is more useful, charms or transfiguration?" Draco demanded as soon as he sat down. With that, he was sucked into the conversation. Blaise, Pansy, and Milicent were arguing in favor for transfiguration, while Draco, the Moon girl, and surprisingly Vincent, were arguing in favor of Charms. Other students started trickling in, and by the time he was explaining how he couldn't really think either was "better", near all the class was seated. The class bell rang when Draco threw up his hands in frustration. Two Gryffindors rushed in minutes later, out of breath and buckled over. Thomas and Finnigan, if he was right. Or maybe it was Turner and Fowl?_

"_MADE IT!" One of them yelled, relieved. The relief they must have felt soon evaporated as the cat on the desk in front rose, stretching. In one fluid movement, it jumped off and morphed into the professor, fully-robed and stern as ever...Did that mean he had pet the __**teacher**__?_

"_I'm afraid not, boys. 10 points for not being here on time, as you _should have _been. I will not have and tardiness from you." She said, spinning around as they took the veritable walk of disgrace to the last empty seats. "Transfiguration is one of the most dangerous and complex arts you will learn in Hogwarts. I will have no messing around or silliness in my class. Anyone who does so will _leave _and not come back. You have been warned."._

_Pulling out her wand, she turned her desk into a rotund pig and back. The class was very impressed._

"_Now, we must first begin with the theory of transfiguration..."_

* * *

The professor had spent the majority of the lesson explaining the theory, which the students were supposed to write in complicated notes, and were then handed a match and told to turn it into a silver needle. By the end of the class, the only ones who had succeeded in doing anything to theirs were him and Millicent, who had managed to turn hers pointy. Harry's own was a bona-fide needle by the end as he went through his steps. He had done this before, making a new pencil or turning old papers into bandages. First, he would visualize what he wanted to make, and its characteristics. Was it soft, hard? Long, short? Wood, metal, cloth? He went through each one, changing it inch by inch. His technique even without the spell and movements was nowhere near perfect, of course. At one time, when he had been trying to turn an old toy of Dudley's into a pillow, he had succeeded in giving it a pillow shape and texture, but it was still as hard as the plastic it had been when he was done. The change they were working on was thankfully simple, so he had significantly less problems this time around.

She had praised the both of them, giving them a stiff smile and ten points to Slytherin. Harry was amazed, as he'd heard she was especially severe with Slytherins. They were all given homework- they were to work on their transfiguration, or in Harry's case, reverse it. She was not impressed with their work the following Thursday.  
But, it was now the end of the week, and all his classes had passed except for one. It was after lunch, nearing dinner, and Potions class started in ten minutes. Harry couldn't say he wasn't nervous, but he wasn't completely panicking. The teacher acted like he despised Harry on some level, yeah, but some people are bound to. And Harry had studied the course book from front to back- along with a few others in the library that were put away incorrectly. He was prepared- so why was he so nervous?

Right now, the bunch of them were rushing to make it to the classroom on time. History of Magic had let out late since Binns had not heard the bell, and everyone didn't know whether to leave or stay. Eventually, a good chunk of them had decided Snape was worse than detention, and hightailed it out of there. Him, the Slytherins (excluding Vincent and Greg, who were probably bent over somewhere behind them panting), and many of the Gryffindors in the class were in a race against time, trying to go down four floors to where the entrance to the dungeons was.

Five minutes left, they reached the entrance after three moving staircases, one near-sprained ankle, Pansy bowling over a Gryff, and Harry constantly praying they didn't trip and go flying down the stairs.

Three minutes left, they reached the classroom and crowded in, people trying to get in before Snape showed up. Finally, every little child was in a seat and happier than a wino with $100. Harry pretended he didn't see the red splotch in the corner, and didn't say anything about the sad improbability of them beating Snape. "This is the sort of reason they should evaluate teachers for! Binns near made us late with his rambling!" Theo panted out at the table behind Harry. Many others, including some Gryffindors in earshot, nodded vigorously in agreement. Commanding _time, _he was relieved to see that they could at least defend themselves if the professor said they were late. It was only 3.58- two minutes before the bell. Harry busied himself with getting out a pen and notebook- he may have bought quills and parchment, but there was no way he was using them unless he had to. Damn Wizarding World and their highly inconvenient cliches.

As the Professor predictably pretended to sweep in as though he just came in, he opened the notebook and waited patiently. various students gasped or jumped, and Neville Longbottom even whimpered a little. The dark man went to his desk, picking up a scroll of parchment. It was obviously the roll, as he began to call names, waiting for a reply. When he got to Harry's name, he paused, and read it slowly, but showed no other sign of reaction. He soon finished calling roll, and looked up at the lot of them. Adolescent, arrogant or rebellious faces stared back at him, and he remembered the reason why he drank.

"You are here to learn about the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," He began, slowly walking around their desks. His voice was barely above a whisper, but all of them could hear it clearly. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I do not expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you are not as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Silence followed his little speech, with some students glancing at each other with uncertain looks on their faces. Personally, Harry was even more pumped for learning how to brew potions.

"Potter!" Snape called suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered root of asphodel and infusion of wormwood... Wormwood can make you drowsy when you overdose, and asphodel root.. that's only used for food, isn't it? _Harry glanced at Draco, who shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"Um, a potion that puts someone to sleep, sir?"

"Is that a question or an answer, Potter?" Snape said, raising a brow.

"A-answer, sir." He replied. Professor Snape narrowed his eye, searching Harry's face. Suddenly, he spun around, turning to glare at some other unfortunate soul.

"Thomas! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Harry sighed in relief, no longer the center of attention. He turned and looked at Draco wildly, silently asking 'what the hell was that about?'. The boy simply shrugged his shoulders again, a bewildered expression on his face. He dimly heard Thomas answer that no, he did not know where to find a goat's stomach stone, and heard Snape answer that was simply pathetic.

"Parkinson! Where can you find me a bezoar?"

"In a goat's stomach sir. It cures most poisons."

"Excellent. Ten points to Slytherin." Ah. There was some of the favouritism he had heard about.

"Patil! What is the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood?" _None, they're the same thing. _The Patil girl stumbled around a bit, trying to remember what little she had read about them.

"Um, aren't they the same thing Professor? Just different sub-subspecies?" She said, staring at the ceiling in frantic thought.

Snape sneered at her. "Indeed. Well? Why are you not all copying this down?" There was a sudden, loud rummaging in bags and sacks for quills and parchment. Harry calmly wrote down the information the professor had managed to leak out of them as others frantically tried to write it all before they forgot.

Things didn't really improve throughout the lesson. Snape paired them up to work on a potion together; Harry was put with Neville, and Blaise managed to be paired with Millicent. They were brewing a simple potion to cure boils. Snape swept around them, watching them add this or that and barking at them when they were about to monumentally mess up. Even the Slytherins weren't exempt, with Snape yelling at Greg at one point for almost not adding the dried nettles.

Harry himself was constantly stopping Neville, and it was getting to be quite frustrating. The other boy wouldn't stop shaking, and it was messing things up.

"Look, Neville, you need to calm down. I know Professor Snape can give someone the shakes with how he acts, but he isn't the potion, and he can't yell at you if we do it right and good." He said, taking the knife from the Gryff's hand, which he was using to unevenly cut the pungous onion they were to use. Neville flushed.

"S-sorry Harry. I-I'm not much good at anything. I can't even do this right." He said, his eyes downcast. Harry frowned.

"Now, enough of that," He said, putting in the onions and heating the cauldron, "I'm sure you can do this, you just need to believe you can. It's like magic in a way; you need to believe you can do it, or else you'll just blunder through your spells." Neville sighed, but didn't say anything in return. They continued with their potion, Harry taking over the ingredients this time and Neville the stirring and heating. When the class was nearing an end, they were finishing up, and only had two steps left.

"Okay, turn off the heat Neville. Aand there go the porcupine quills. And we're finished!" Harry smiled at the other boy, glad to have avoided any unpleasant incidents. The potion was now a pleasant blue colour, with the texture of gel. Neville tentatively smiled back. Harry took a vial out of his bag, and scooped some of the potion into it. With his pen, he marked their names down on a piece of paper and tied it to the vial. Taking up to Professor Snape's desk, he could see the man glancing at him from where he was berating one of the girls for almost adding the porcupine quills before turning off the heat.

When they exited the class fifteen minutes later, Harry couldn't say the class wasn't at least interesting. The possible reactions between the ingredients, the ingredients they used themselves- it was all strange, _new_. Even better than chemistry, in a way. At least this subject people would actually know what he was talking about; absolutely no one in the common room had known what he was talking about when he started going on about just baking soda and vinegar, for Merlin's sake!

"Oi, Neville!" He called to the pudgy boy, who was walking by himself to the Great Hall. Blaise huffed in exasperation next to him, but Harry _considerately _ignored him. "Why don't you walk with us? Maybe I can give you a few pointers about the things you're having trouble with." Neville stared at him nervously, glancing between him and his house-mates. Harry smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, they won't bite." Neville hesitated some more, shifting from foot to foot, before slowly walking over to Harry's side. Harry beamed. "About getting through potions..."

They talked on the way to the Great Hall, and even dallied at the entrance a little to finish their conversation. Harry gave Neville a few tips on keeping calm when you were having the piss scared out of you, and eventually got into a fiery talk about the different plants they were going to be looking at that year in Herbology. Vincent joined in at one point, mentioning dittany and saying it was good for healing potions. It was amazing what you learned about people once you got past the fact they looked like hulking idiots.

They finally parted, going to their respective tables with smiles on their faces. Harry could feel someone watching him, but refused to turn around to see who it was.

"Blimey, Harry, it's like you're building a menagerie of misfits." Blaise commented. Harry grinned as he loaded his plate with potatoes and string beans.

"Doesn't that mean you're one too? After all, you're the first one I met." Blaise huffed in response, and stole the biscuit the other boy was reaching for. Harry just laughed.

As with every evening, the evening post came, which consisted of newspapers, magazines, and letters that didn't reach them earlier that morning. A _Daily Prophet _dropped in front of Theo, who picked it up and scanned it while chewing on something Harry thought might be a root. "MERLIN!" He yelled after a second, eyes widening.

"What? What is it?" They crowded around him, trying to read whatever surprised him. Splayed across the first page was this article:

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

_Investigation continue into the recent break-in at Gringotts Bank on the 2nd of August. It is widely believed to have been carried out by Dark wizards or witches due to the magic residue left behind. _

_Gringotts goblins insist that nothing had been taken, as the vault that had been broken into was in fact emptied earlier that day._

"_But we're not telling you what was in there of course, so keep your wands out if you know what's good for you," A Gringotts spokesgoblin said this afternoon. Gringotts Security Measures on page 8, Magic Residue and Investigation on page 9._

"Hey, that's the afternoon Professor Snape took me shopping for supplies. I wonder if we were there when it was taking place?" Harry shivered at the thought, along with a few others. For someone to break into Gringotts and escape... They had to be powerful, and crafty.

The rest of dinner was spent in troubled silence as the upper-years discussed just what might have gone down.

* * *

Harry felt that the cliches couldn't get any worse after this. A notice had been pinned up in the Slytherin common room a couple of days ago that made him groan. Flying lessons (with a BROOM!) would be starting on Thursday with the Gryffindors. This was in no way going to be any kind of pleasant. Their potions classes were bad enough- everyone tried to sabotage each other's potions or help a clumsy housemate avoid an explosion. By the the end of the month, Harry had taken to silently shielding his and Neville's cauldron so nothing could fly into it, effects be damned.

"Typical," Draco sneered, "They stick us with the Gryffindorks."

"_Gryffindors_, Draco." Harry said absently. "You know, I can't say I really favor making a fool of myself in front of so many people."

"You don't know you'll make a fool of yourself," Blaise said, patting his back. "After all, your dad was the Gryffindor Quidditch team leader. Maybe the skill passed over." Harry hummed in response.

Quite honestly, he saw the lessons as a waste of time. Sure, people may want to learn, but they could do that on their own time. And he would rather not have to listen to Draco anymore- ever since the notice had gone up, he'd been talking and whining nonstop about how they couldn't even join the team until next year and ugh why did they have to have the lesson with the Gryffindorks and Draco is just _wonderful and perfect_ on a broom. Everyone was a hair away from hexing him to make him shut up. He wasn't the only one though- Seamus Finnigan had been going on about how he was a natural flyer since childhood, and how this would a piece of cake for him. Even Ron, when Harry could get a spot of conversation exiting the Hall, bragged about how he almost hit a hang-glider when he was younger. It made Harry roll his eyes, and sigh in disappointment. It had been two and a half weeks, and he still had no answer. He had caught the ginger's eye a few times, but Ron always looked away when it happened. He was about to give it up as a lost cause.

Neville had told him last potions lesson that he had never been on a broomstick in his life because he Gran had never let him near one. Harry felt she was making a right decision with that, but didn't comment. Instead, he told Neville he had never been on one either, even when Blaise had offered when they were younger. He was terrified of falling, he said, and would rather just stay on the ground thank-you-very-much. It was a bonding moment between the two, a common mishap.

Many Ravenclaws were nervous as well, he learned. When he sat on the side near them, he could hear Boot and Granger discussing flying tips that one of them had gotten out of the library.

Today, the Gryffindors and Slytherins were most nervous, as it was their turn to have the lesson. It was early in the morning, only a little after breakfast had started. Harry had dragged down Theo and Blaise with him this time, and they were both now glaring at him over glasses of milk. Draco had followed them, claiming there was no point trying to get back to sleep with Greg and Vincent in the room. He himself was calmly buttering toast, watching the clouds above sedately move. The Hall filled in quickly today, and soon the mail owls flew in, bearing their usual guff. A large horned owl landed in front of Blaise today, laden with two envelopes.

"Is that your mum's?" Theo asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes once again and grabbing an apple. Blaise nodded, tearing open the letter with his name on it.

Many people at the table received letters- Draco periodically mailed his parents with an eagle hawk for some God-awful reason, Theo updated his older brothers on things going on with a Screech owl, it goes on. Harry didn't have anyone to mail to himself, but Hedwig swooped in from time to time for a visit. He'd feed her bacon and compliment her feathers when she did.

"Harry, here." Blaise suddenly said, handing him the second letter while continuing to read.

"What-"

"It's yours, idiot, just read it." Harry blinked, and stared down at the letter. Carefully opening it, he pulled out the parchment within and slowly read:

_Dear Harrison,_

_Blaise finally owled me about his first week at Hogwarts, and I would like to thank you and say congratulations! Somehow, you have apparently talked a bit of sense into Blaise's other companions, to which I am eternally grateful. I am sure you know by now why I am. And while I am sure the two of you would have been wonderful in any house, it gives me special pride to see you two in Slytherin. Yes, you as well. _

_With all Blaise has told me about you over the years, I feel like we have met more than just two times. I feel like I have seen you as much as young Draco or Theodore. And I must admit to have being worried when we parted ways last August- Blaise and Smith have said many... worrying things over the years. I trust the rest of your stay with your muggles was adequate? And that your first few weeks at Hogwarts have been pleasant? Please write me back, bambino._

_From,_

_ Nicola Zabini._

Harry put the letter on the table, staring at nothing.

"Your mother wants me to write to her." He said.

"I know," Blaise replied, "I'm fairly certain she thinks of you as a wayward nephew by now." Harry stared at him, gaping as the other boy grabbed a hard-boiled egg.

"But-" He started.

"Harry," Blaise said, putting down his egg, " Did you really expect someone not to start to worry about you when their son talks nonstop about every little detail of their little playdates? Or when they hang around you every other day for five years? I'm pretty sure she got attached to you when you almost tripped over yourself trying to say goodbye to us in Warlock's." Harry stared at him some more, speechless. The darker boy gave him a rare, genuine smile.

Harry felt a grin come to his face, and ducked his head so no one could see.

* * *

Around half past 3 that afternoon, Harry, Blaise, Draco, and Neville were waiting near two rows of brooms. They had made sure to come early, and were currently watching the rest of the Gryffindors hurry down the steps to the lawn near the lake. There were twenty broomsticks lying on the ground, and they looked as dingy as actual ones used for cleaning. Marcus Flint, captain of the Quidditch team, had told them to be careful handling them, as they had a tendency to vibrate or shake if you went too high.

Their teacher, a woman with steel grey hair and hawkish eyes named Madam Hooch, arrived herself soon after.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" She barked. "Each of you stand next to a broomstick. Come on, come on, hurry up now." Harry glanced down at the nearest one. It was dull, and had snapped twigs at its end.

"Stick out your right hand, right over your broom children," Called Madam Hooch, and say 'UP!'"

"UP!" Everyone shouted. Harry's broom flew into his hand instantly, and he could see it had done so for Draco and Blaise as well. Pansy's was rolling uselessly on the ground as she yelled at it. Neville's wasn't even moving.

"Neville, like I've said before, you've got to mean it. _Believe _it'll bounce up for you." He said, smiling encouragingly. Neville gave a meek smile back, and tried once more. With a determined look on his face, he yelled,

"U-UP!" The broom stayed still for a moment, before it slowly floated up, as though pulled on strings. He grinned, joyed that it worked.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to properly mount their brooms, and Harry could admit to smirking a little when she told Draco that he was gripping it wrong, and had done so for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, I want you to kick off from the ground. Hard. You need to keep your brooms steady, and rise a few feet, then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly." Madam Hooch said. "On my whistle- three- two-"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Neville about to push off from the ground with a frightened expression on his face. Reaching out, he shook the boy's arm a bit, startling him. Neville looked over, and was distracted when Madam Hooch blew her whistle. Harry grinned. "NOW you go." They both kicked off, joining the others hovering slightly. But where Harry stopped after a few feet, Neville kept going up and up and up. Harry could see him looking down, pale-faced, and gasping-

And then he was falling, falling, falling, and WHAM- a thud and nasty-sounding crack later, Neville lay face-down on the grass in a heap, robes splayed around him. His broom was still rising in the air, and starting to slowly drift to the left, towards the lake and forbidden forest.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his and her eyes searching for any serious injuries.

"Broken wrist, of all things," Harry could hear her mutter, "Up you go, Longbottom, let's get you to the Hospital Wing. It's all right, Madam Pomfrey will patch you up quick." She turned to the rest of class, many who had gone back down to the ground with pale faces.

"None of you are to move or go back in the air while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You put those brooms down and leave them where they are or so help me you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Bludger'. Come on dear."

She hobbled up the lawns with a teary-faced Neville, who was clutching his arm as though it were a life-line.

No sooner were they gone that Draco burst into laughter. Harry scowled.

"Did you see his _face_, the big dud?"

A few others uneasily joined in, but most were edging away from the Malfoy and Harry, who was holding his broom like a club by this point.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Snapped the Gryffindor Patil twin. "Not everyone can ride a broom. So sorry he wasn't _imperfect _like you."

Draco flushed, but grinned a horrid grin as he looked down at the ground. "Look!" He cried, "It's that stupid thing his Gran sent him! I could hear him blabbing on about it Thursday." The thing, which was in fact a remembrall, glittered in the sun. It was supposed to tell you when you forgot something, but didn't tell you what it was, rendering it completely useless. Draco picked it up, smiling nastily, and Harry had enough.

"Malfoy, give it here," He said quietly. Draco looked over to him, and had a flash of uncertainty cross his face at Harry and his broom-club, but it disappeared just as quick.

"Standing up for Longbottom again, Harry? Honestly, I'm not surprised you hang out with a lump like him. I think I'll leave it somewhere for him, how about- up a tree?" Harry sneered, and started advancing on Draco, who hopped on his broom and took off. Harry followed him, and soon they were both in the air, Harry chasing after Draco with a thrill he didn't realise. As he rushed up through the air, he felt something loosen in his chest, and a joy fill him at the feeling of the wind in his hair, of his clothes billowing out. He eased out of his spike, and twisted sharply to see Draco with a stunned look.

"Give it here, Malfoy," He called to the other boy, nonchalant, "Or I'll make sure you pay for messing with a friend. A _good _one."

"Oh yeah?" He replied, trying to paste a sneer on his face. It didn't work. Harry could see that the Malfoy was starting to doubt his decisions, especially after realising he was dozens of feet in the air with the boy who hadn't hesitated to shock him for thoughtless comments on the first day. Harry tilted forward on his broom, and it shot forward, nearly hitting Draco if it weren't for him moving at the last second. He made a sharp turnabout and kept his broom steady, still keeping his nonchalant air around him as he gazed at Draco. A few people below were clapping.

"No daddy or guards to help you up here, Draco." He called. The same thought must have occurred to the other boy as well, because he suddenly shouted,

"Catch it if you can then!" And tossed it as hard as he could. It arced through the air, and began to come back down to the ground, quick. Harry leaned forward, pointing his broom in a swan dive towards it. He went down, down, faster as he got closer. The wind whistled in his ears, and Theo and Blaise would later tell him in their room that he had a crazy grin on his face. When he was not two feet from the ground, he snatched it and pulled up as hard as he could. He toppled softly onto the grass, his body wrapped around the remembrall to keep it from shattering.

"**HARRY POTTER**!"

His heart jumped, and he flinched at the loud scream. It was Madam Hooch, racing down from the steps to him with an intent that was visible.

"_Never-_ in _all _my time as an instructor-"

She was near speechless with shock, and her face was a red colour. "-how _dare _you, after I _told _you- could have broken your _neck-"_

"It wasn't his fault ma'am-" Started a few, but she raised her hand to silence them.

"But-"

"That is _enough_, you lot. Potter, follow me. Now."

Harry caught sight of Draco slowly lowering himself to the ground, a troubled look on his face, and scrunched his nose. _I'm getting punished, and the fool who started it is scot-free. Wonderful. _He thought as he left, walking mutely in Madam Hooch's shadow. He was going to be suspended, or worse, who risked their legs and limbs for "no" reason didn't go off trundling without a sizable smack on the head. They walked through the castle, and down into the dungeons, and finally reached the potions class, where Professor Snape was teaching a handful of sixth years.

"Snape!" Madam Hooch called from the doorway, "I need to talk to you about something. I've found you a godsend." He looked up from where he was a berating a Ravenclaw for their improper use of bubotuber pus, and saw her and a frightened Harry. He sighed, and left the Ravenclaw with a few parting admonishments. After telling them all not to blow themselves up, he went out into the hallway.

"What is it, Koda?" He asked, glancing down at Harry skeptically.

"I was delivering the Longbottom boy to the infirmary after a nasty break, and came back to see Potter pulling off a near-perfect wronski feint and grabbing that thing in his hand after a fifty to sixty-foot dive." She said, "Didn't even scratch himself."

Snape scowled, and looked down at Harry properly. "Mr. Potter, just why were you in a _fifty-foot dive_? And what is that in your hand?" Harry flushed.

"It's Neville's remembrall, sir. Draco decided to play toss-away with it, and I refused to put up with him." Professor Snape raised a brow, but didn't comment.

"Ten points for reckless self-endangerment, Mr. Potter. Do you really think we could use him, Koda? He is a first-year, not some second-year who can be instantly bumped on."

She waved his concerns away, mumbling something about bending the rules and Dumbledore. And Harry was put on the Slytherin Quidditch team by some magic twist of fate.

* * *

...So. I'd make an excuse for being this late, but to be honest after three hours of homework each night, you stop caring about excuses. Which is what I've had. Because school is a heap of shit that makes me yell at people who don't deserve it. Hopefully, you all will like this and the next chapter, as I'm gearing for a double update. I'm also planning to do a picture of Harry with his messy hair, which will be linked to in the next or next-next chapter. Please review ouo

Replies(y)!

**Sazq **- THANK GOD I WAS SO WORRIED YOU WOULD NOT /BELIEVE/. And neither do I, but the boy _is _a Hufflepuff in this. Who knows, maybe his other 'puffs and some sense will make him link back up with Harry (its a mysteryy dootdoot). And I really hope he does, or that I write that he does considering I'm the damn author, because a pureblood snob Draco will not survive with a whole crowd of neutrals and/or people with decent morals for seven years.


	6. In Which Harry Thinks It's Not Worth It

I'M REALLY MAD I DIDN'T FINISH YESTERDAY SINCE I SPENT THE WHOLE DAY WRITING BUT FUCK IT ITS UP NOW AN AT BOTTOM

**SLIGHTLY EDITED 30.9.14, KEPT SHORT FOR SAKE OF THOSE ALREADY FOLLOWING**

* * *

"So you're telling us that after nearly _killing _yourself, you got ten points taken away and were named the new Seeker of the Quidditch team." Blaise said flatly.

Harry meekly nodded, and Blaise covered his face with his hands, muttering a string of Italian. They were all sitting in the common room, occupying the loveseats near the fire. Harry could see that the mysterious painting man was watching them.

"But that's impossible!" Draco finally burst out. "First-years are never allowed to play Quidditch! No first-years have played in at least-"

"A century, yes. Flint talked to me during dinner. That's why I wasn't sitting with you all- so no, I wasn't expelled or suspended." Draco, so far, had been alternating between unnaturally quiet and annoyingly loud, and refused to look Harry in the eye. "I'll start training next week, although Flint's going to test me before then."

"...Oh." Draco muttered. The others ignored him.

"Well, are you going to buy a broom? The Cleensweeps the school has are way too slow, and there's no way a _Seeker _should be using them!" Theo exclaimed. Pansy, sitting beside him, nodded vigorously in agreement. Harry actually hadn't thought about that. Flint had said he would do something about it, but Harry honestly had no idea what, and hadn't bothered asking due to basking in the relief of not getting kicked out of school. He'd have to look into broom models, to see what would be best.

"I suppose," He said slowly, "I have enough money to buy one anyways. It'll be useful in the future." Theo grinned, whooping. He was the only one besides Pansy really excited about this- Blaise was... angry? Vincent and Greg didn't care for Quidditch, and Draco was still in a funk from his... _unpleasantness_ this afternoon.

"You have to let us ride it sometimes! The teachers can't even say anything since it's yours, not ours!" Harry nodded distractedly, looking through his satchel. He was done with his homework, but the Herbology project was still an in-progress- they were only half-done with it. Moving on from Quidditch mentally, he stood, hanging his satchel over his shoulder and glancing at the others.

"Hey- do any of you want to go to the library with me before curfew? I need to find some books for the Herbology project." Blaise jumped up, along with Theo and Pansy. The three of them were in his project group; they were to identify different seeds they were given, and identify the uses of what they grew into. It was time-consuming, to be completely honest. Harry never thought it would be difficult scouring out what a plant was for.

They left the common room, leaving the others to talk of what they wanted. The library was on the fourth floor, so they walked quickly to avoid curfew. A few times when walking on the stairs, Harry had to stop them and himself from tripping a trap, of which there were suspiciously many. Hidden holes, disappearing steps, you name it.

"You would think in a school of students, they wouldn't booby-trap the only way to get up or down in it." Blaise groaned after getting his foot stuck in a hidden hole. Pansy and Harry tugged him out, nearly falling on their bums in the process.

"Maybe it's a way to train us, make us agile and dangerous." Harry joked. Blaise snorted, and shoved him a little.

They made it to the library in short order, managing to avoid the rest of the traps along the way. They followed Harry to the Potions section, avoiding the librarian, Miss Pince. Students had been saying that she was in a bad mood after having to end a fight in the library earlier that day. Two Ravenclaws had started a tiff over which theorist was right and gotten into blows over it. By the time she broke them up, there was a crowd and bets, according the gossip mill. Harry couldn't blame her for being testy.

"Harry, just what books are you looking for? This is the Potions sections_._" Theo asked.

"I was asking one of the Ravenclaws for advice, and they suggested looking through Potions books because, y'know, uses. We already identified them, so we just to need to know what they're for. Look for books that go over basic potions." They scanned the titles on the shelves, sometimes pulling out one and flipping through it. Harry could see some weird ones, like _1001 Ways to Improve a Potion On the Way Down _and _Marina's Guide to Not Making Your Potion a Heartbreaker_. In a little while, they had a pile of books, and were ready to head back.

"You really think these will help?" Blaise asked. Harry nodded confidently, and they set to carrying them. Lucky for them, they had only plucked out about five or so, meaning they hardly had a load. Dashing past the librarian's desk again, Harry stopped short. Madam Pince was not only gone, but had put up a closed sign in front of the library's closed doors. He looked at the others worriedly.

"Just how long were we in here?" Commanding _time_, Harry could see that it was already 9.30. "BLOODY HELL! We've got to run- who knows what Snape'll do if he finds out?" He gasped. One of them- he wasn't certain who- unlocked the door, and they all ran back to the stairs. They were about halfway down when the stairway suddenly started shifting, nearly knocking them to the ground. Pansy gave out a near-shriek, and they clung to the banister as though their lives depended on it. And it actually might- moving stairs four flights up aren't exactly safe.

When they stopped shifting, the four of them shakily got off, gawking at the hallway they were now in.

"Oh Merlin... this is the forbidden corridor!" Pansy squeaked. "What are we going to do- who knows how long it'll take those stairs to shift back?" They all shivered at the thought of waiting all night for them to shift back, or being found by Filch here. Harry tentatively tried to force the staircase to _move_, but it refused to obey him.

"Maybe we should try to find another way down," He said, "There can't be only one way up and down third floor." The others reluctantly agreed, and they started off to the right. They clutched each other's sleeves in a strange conga line, no one wanting to lose each other in_ the corridor of death- _which still bothered Harry greatly because good lord, this is supposed to be a great school and it has corridors of death and booby-trapped staircases. They walked past doors, which one of them would peek in and then quickly shut. So far, they had no luck even finding a sign of habitation in this hallway. Only dusty classrooms and one room that might have been someone's personal study. About halfway down the hallway, Harry tugged on the doorknob of a door that looked like it might have been used recently. Peering in, he couldn't see anything, so he opened it wider. The others peeked in as well, crowding around him. And then they found out exactly why the forbidden corridor was forbidden. Standing in front of them in a spacious room was a very large, very ugly, three-headed dog. It looked like a bulldog, except huge and nightmare-inducing. It was staring at them, and Harry was sure it wasn't moving only because it was taken by surprise as well. But it was slowly getting over that, if its thunderous growls meant anything. Slowly, so as not to provoke it, he pushed the other into the corridor and swiftly closed the door. A second later, something, namely the dog, hit it with a great BANG, followed by a sonorous whimper.

Harry turned to look at the other three, and could see they were all in agreement on feeling the need to throw up.

* * *

When they got back to the common room, they practically yelled the password- memento mori- at the wall, tumbling in as it disappeared. The people left in the common room stared at them strangely, and one of the prefects looked like they were about to reprimand them for being out past curfew, but they rushed down to their dorms, near hysterical. They were lucky they hadn't dropped their books along the way, but their death grip on them might have something to do with that.

They went to each door down the first year hall, dragging everyone out to congregate in the hallway. Sitting in a cramped oval, a good majority glared at the four of them in sleepy annoyance.

"Is there a reason you four woke us up at 10 at night?" Moon asked irritably in her nightgown. They babbled out their story at once, running over each other's sentences in an effort to get it out quick enough.

Moon raised her hands in a peace gesture, panicked. "Okay, not at once! Potter, you look the least like you're going to run like a headless chicken, you start." The four of them flushed, and quieted down. Harry started.  
"Well, we were going to the library to get research like we said-" They helped up their books to affirm this fact- "And when we were walking back, the staircase moved on us! Switched us completely to the forbidden corridor! And we didn't want to just wait around all night to be found by Filch, so we started walking to find another way down. We were checking doors all the way, and at one point I opened one and there was this huge-"

"Drooling!"

"Three-headed!"

"FREAKY DOG! They finished together, fearful expressions on their faces. The others were looking incredulously at them, and Daphne was even snickering in her too-expensive slippers and and hair-curlers.

"You seriously expect us to believe you saw a _cerberus_ in the school?" She asked sarcastically. Theo pinkened, but someone else spoke up before he could defend them.

"I believe them." Draco said quietly. "There's no reason for them to lie, and like Moon said- they look like they're headless chickens ready to run." Everyone looked towards him, and he shifted uncomfortably but kept his straight face. "Besides, isn't the question just why that is in the school, not if?"

Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Harry paled, having not even thought of that in their dash to home-run. Then _everyone _started panicking.

"Oh god, what if it's to eat us up if we enter the forbidden corridor?"

"What if it's some animal that Dumbledore lost control of, and they've only managed to isolate it in that room?"

"What if it's supposed to be a test or something, for people who go sneaking in there?"

Harry frantically waved his hands in the air, trying to get them to quiet down. He kept glancing back at the stairs to make sure no one heard the commotion and came down to investigate.

"Be quiet!" He hissed, "We can't have the others hearing us! Who knows what will happen if more people know?" They quieted down, staring at him as he took a deep breath. "Okay. So there are a lot of reasons it could be there, but a lot don't make sense. The teachers wouldn't test us, because a lot of us would surely die from its foot-long teeth. And if Dumbledore really lost control of that thing, then there's even more of a reason that man shouldn't be in charge of children. The most plausible one right now is the eating up one which is absolutely _horrible_, but the best we got. Does anyone know a way we can repress this from our memories?" They looked uncertainly at each other, although a few did let loose a few uneasy chuckles.

"Wait, Harry," Blaise said, speaking up from his side, "There was-there was something in the room. The dog was standing on it, I think- did you guys get a look at it?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so," Theo said, eyes widening. "There was like a- a trapdoor under it! That means..."

That means it's guarding something." Harry said grimly. "Just what could be so important that they needed something that dangerous to guard it?" No one could answer that, and after a few minutes they slipped back into their rooms. Silence fell, and no one slept peacefully in the hours after.

* * *

Breakfast the next day was an unpleasant affair. All of the first-years were tired, snappish, and paranoid to noticeable extents. Well, noticeable to anyone who knew what to look for on blank slates. The prefects refused to let up on their watching of them, and even Professor Snape was eyeing them suspiciously, perhaps even with a bit of worry. When the owls flew in, no one was quite excited as they usually were, and no one reacted when letters were near-dropped in their food. They were simply shoved into their bags for a later read when they had more than three hours of sleep. Except for Harry. An unfamiliar owl had landed in front of him, and had a piece of parchment tied to its leg. Harry tiredly took it, feeding the small owl a piece of bacon in reward. It gulped it down, and preened itself, and then sat down in front of Harry, watching him.

"Who's that from, now?" Blaise asked, leaning over Harry's shoulder. He shrugged and unrolled it. It read as such in a messy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_ You may not know me, but I knew your parents, and I'd love to tell you about them if you like. I've got a hut near the Forbidden Forest, if you want to visit this afternoon._

_From, _

_ Hagrid._

Harry tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Hagrid is the.. groundskeeper, right? I'm not misremembering?"

"What, that huge oaf is mailing you?" Draco said, leaning over from his seat on the other side of the table. Harry glared at him and he paled, quickly leaning back. "Sorry." He muttered.

"He says he knew my parents- do you think I should go visit him?"

"Well, you could learn something about them, I suppose. You sure you'll feel safe going alone?" Blaise asked nonchalantly. Harry eyed him with a raised eyebrow, but only got an innocent look in return.

"You could come if he says-"

"Thanks Harry! Send off a reply before the owl goes away!" Blaise cut him off, beaming. Harry could feel an eye twitching. He wrote off a quick reply _Yes, could a friend come? _and handed it to the owl who sailed off to the High Table. Hagrid, sitting at the very end, took it, and the owl flew off. He quickly read it, and looked towards Harry with a smile and a nod. It seems Harry was going to be spending his afternoon talking about his parents with a groundskeeper today.

* * *

A little after three, Harry and Blaise walked down the school grounds towards the little hut near the edge of the forest. It was a ramshackle thing, looking more like someone had just stacked stones one on top each other and then piled a shingle roof on top of it. When they were nearing it, a great big dog leapt up from the doorway and bounded towards them. Still haunted by the events of last night, Harry and Blaise screamed like little girls and started running in the other direction. The door to the shack opened immediately, and Hagrid came out, yelling.

"Boys, come back, it's alright! That's jus' Fang, he's a big softie! _Back_, Fang, _back_!" The dog stopped chasing them, and trotted back to Hagrid with its tongue lolling out. The two of them were still prepared to run all the way back to the castle if they had to, but slowly approached the hut once more. Hagrid smiled reassuringly at them through his beard, holding "Fang" by his collar as they approached.

"Sorry abou' that boys, he loves kids. Come in!"

There was only room in the hut, and it had hams and pheasants hanging from the ceiling, a kettle bowling over a fire, and a massive bed in one corner. To Harry, it seemed very homey.

"Make yerself at home." Said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Blaise. Harry felt sympathy for the Italian boy who was currently getting his head thoroughly slobbered on. At least it wasn't trying to kill them. God, this school was making him as weird as the rest of them.

"This is Blaise." Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring three cups of tea and putting strange rocks on a plate.

"Blaise, eh? Yer mother's Zabini, ain't she? Met her a few times- nice enough woman." he said, glancing at the dark-skinned boy.

The rocks, which turned out to actually be what Hagrid called rock cakes, were hard lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth when they tried chewing them. Harry didn't mind much since Hagrid went on and on about James and Lily Potter.

"Yer parents were both wizards of course, and were both Gryffindors when they went here. Yeh wouldn't believe 'ow many people were surprised when yeh were sorted. I spent those years chasin' yer father around with all the pranks he pulled out here. At one point, he bewitched the Giant Squid to grab students and dance the tango. It'd be impressive if it didn't involve counseling afterwards." Harry winced at that, but didn't interrupt Hagrid.

"Heard he was a wiz at Transfiguration though- McGonagall woulda tried to get him to take up a apprenticeship if it weren't fer him immediately going into the Aurors academy."

"He was an Auror?" Harry asked.

"Aye, for a few months at least. He had just passed the exams when..." Hagrid trailed off, scratching his beard. "Anyways, he was an Auror. A good one too. Yeh look exactly like him- if yer hair was shorter, and yeh had glasses, I'd mistake yeh for him. But yeh got yer mother's eyes. Green as grass. She was terrific at charms and potions. From what I've been hearing, yeh got the best of both worlds, eh? How are yer classes goin' anyways, you two?" Hagrid asked, smiling.

They went on about their classes for a bit, about how History of Magic was beyond boring and Transfiguration strict. Harry said Herbology was fun, while Blaise said it was boring. Blaise said Potions was interesting, while Harry said it was an endless challenge.

"I doubt I'll ever be good in potions with how Professor Snape is. It's like he hates me." He said miserably.

"Rubbish! Why should he?" Harry would have loved to believe him if it weren't for the fact Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"Didn't Professor Snape have some rivalry with James Potter when they were younger?" Blaise broke in, interested. Harry blinked, and Hagrid sighed in resignation.

"Aye they did- a nasty one. It wouldn't have been so bad if someone had interfered, but the teachers just saw it as some house rivalry. Harry frowned, and looked down. Snape was treating him like dirt because of his father? That just seemed... dirty.

"Hey Hagrid," Blaise started. Harry glanced over to him, curious. "Do you know anything about cerberi?" He said, ignoring Harry's obvious signs to _shut the hell up! _

"Now why do yeh want to be knowing about something like that?" Hagrid said warily, definitely not meeting their eyes this time.

" Harry and I have been interested in Greek mythology lately, and since you're the groundskeeper and so close to the forest and must have some experience with animals, we thought you might know." Blaise said sweetly. Harry nearly groaned.

"Er- well, they're three-headed dogs, o' course. And they act and eat like dogs. Tha's about all there is to it."  
"If they're like dogs, can they be used like dogs as well? Like, guard dogs or seeing eye dogs?" Blaise asked. Harry was seconds away from throttling him.

"Well, I guess so, if yeh train them. Listen, why don't yeh boys head up to the castle, it's near dinner and I don't want yeh missing it." Hagrid rushed, hustling them out the door. "Feel free to visit again when you two have a free period." He quickly closed the door, and Harry turned to glare at a smug Blaise.

"We just got solid proof that something's going on here." He said proudly. Harry shoved him hard and dragged him back to the castle as he whined.

* * *

They discussed Blaise's improperly-found findings during dinner in a whispered conversation with the other first-years, who seemed relieved that it wasn't meant to actually kill them, but rather protect something.

"What do you think it's protecting?" whispered Pansy.

"Maybe it's protecting something like the philosopher's stone, or the secret to immortality!" whispered Theo excitedly. Harry stared at him blankly, having no idea what the hell he was talking about. "It's a thing! It's a stone made by Nicolas Flamel." He said, defending himself. Things went on this vein, with people suggesting something and it being shot down once the others considered.

"Well this is just pointless." Harry complained as dessert appeared. The others nodded their heads in agreement, frowning or scowling. As they were about to dig in to various treats, the post flew in. Now, this in itself wouldn't be entirely unusual if it weren't for the flock of owls carrying a package straight to the Slytherin table. The students watched as they struggled before finally dropping it across Harry, Blaise, and Theo's laps. At the High Table, Professor Snape took an especially long sip of his "water". It was a long box, and Harry couldn't tell what was inside even by shaking it a bit. It had _To: Harry Potter _scrawled on it and only that, so he could only imagine what it was. It was difficult getting up, and he asked if someone could help him carry this thing back to the dorm. Naturally, Blaise volunteered, and the two of them carried it over their shoulder out of the Great Hall, hundreds of eyes watching. Whispers broke out after they left.

It was a hardship getting down the stairs without bludgeoning each other in the neck, but they somehow managed to lug it all the way down to their room, where they dropped it on the floor in relief. Blaise flopped onto his bed and stared at it.

What do you think it is?" He asked.

"Why would I know? I certainly haven't ordered anything recently." Blaise shrugged in response, and reached down to rummage in his trunk. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a small switchblade, and tossed it to Harry. He yelped, and fumbled trying to catch it and avoid cutting something off. When he had a solid grip on it, he flipped it out.

"Blaise, why do you _have _this?" Harry asked bewilderedly.

"Protection, duh. You wouldn't believe the stories my mum told me of what can happen here, Harry..." Harry didn't, couldn't respond to that, and simply set to cutting open the box. He slit the sides, then tore at the cardboard, revealing packaging material that held- a _broom? _A _Nimbus 2000, _of all models! The two of them stared at it in awe, not believing what they were seeing. Harry touched it a little, making sure it was real. The handle was polished and smooth, just as it looked. The bristles, once he brushed his hand over them, were straight and stiff, much better than the school's.

"I guess this is what Flint meant by taking care of it." Harry murmured. Blaise sniggered in response.

* * *

Everyone (or the Quidditch fans at least) freaked when they saw what was in the box, and Theo wouldn't stop running his hands down the handle. It worried Harry a little. Pansy was just suggesting that he try it out (to which he was _about _to reply_ are you insane no_) when Marcus Flint called from the top of the stairs.

"Potter! Get up here! And bring that broom!" Harry shared a glance with the others and shrugged, gripping the broom in one hand. Walking up, he could see Flint impatiently waiting with a trunk besides him. "Give me that and help me carry this thing." He groused. Harry handed it to him, and they hauled the chest out of the common room, up the stairs, and out to the front lawn. It was when they started heading towards the Quidditch pitch that Harry spoke up.

"Hey Flint, I thought you wanted to practice later in the week." Harry said, confused. Flint grunted and held open the gate to the pitch so they could hobble in. It closed with a bang once they were in, and Flint dropped his side of the trunk.

"That was the plan. But after the show at dinner and the rumours already going 'round, we're going to need you primped earlier. Everyone's going to be training to beat the so-called "flying prodigy". Harry sighed in exasperation at that, and switched the trunk handle for his broomstick as Flint tossed it at him.

"I don't know if you know the basics of Quidditch, and I'm not going to send you out without knowing them, so I brought this." Flint said, patting the trunk. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked it, revealing four different-sized balls.

"On each Quidditch team, you have seven players. Three Chasers, two Beaters, a Keeper, and a Seeker." Harry nodded in understanding, watching as Flint pulled out a bright red ball about the size of a football.

"This is a Quaffle." explained Flint, turning it over in his hands, "The Chasers throw it to each other and try to score past the other team's Keeper in those three rings there and there." He said, pointing to each end of the pitch. "Ten points if they score in one. Follow?" Harry nodded.

"Then, there's the Keeper- they guard the rings, trying to knock back any incoming Quaffles." He set the Quaffle back in its groove, and pointed to the next balls. They were jet black, and seemed to be vibrating in box. They were locked in by chains.

"Those are Bludgers. Here, take this and I'll give you a demonstration." Flint handed Harry a club, and undid the straps on one of them; the ball surged up, and then rocketed down at Harry's face. On instinct, he swung the bat to keep it from smashing his face in, and sent it zigzagging in the air. It pelted towards Flint next, who dodged and pinned it to the ground. He struggled with it before managing to shove it back in the box and lock it up.

Harry's eyes were wide as he said, grinning, "Those rocket around trying to knock players off their brooms. The Beaters' jobs are to keep it from doing that."

Harry stared at the two straining balls and muttered, "I don't think people who play this are thinking it through much. Flint snorted at that.  
Don't worry brat, we've only had a few broken jaws here. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker, or you." Flint reached down and plucked the last ball out of the trunk. It was small, no larger than a golfball, and was bright gold with tiny, fluttering wings.

"This is the Golden Snitch," said Flint, peering down at Harry, "and the most important part of the game. You can be down 100 points, but if your Seeker grabs this thing, the game ends and you win 150 more points just for catching it. It's fast, difficult to find, and hidden among Chasers, Beaters, and Bludgers, so you've got your job cut out for you, Potter." Harry gulped, and clutched his broom a little tighter. Flint replaced the Snitch and closed the trunk, locking it.

"We won't start with the Snitch just yet- too dark to keep track of it," Flint said, "So let me see you try to catch these."

He pulled out a bag of ordinary golf balls, and soon him and Harry were in the air, Flint throwing them in random directions and Harry zooming after them to catch them. Harry caught everyone with ease, and was beaming as he handed them back to Flint. Flint was smirking, and signalled for them to lower down. When they touched the ground, the golf balls were put up and extra broom packed away in the shed once more.

"The Gryffindors have no chance this year," Flint said as they trudged up to the castle, "With you on the team, the Quidditch cup will practically fall in our laps." Harry nervously smiled, but couldn't say he was looking forward to the practice every other day of the week.

* * *

With Quidditch practice, projects, homework, and racing back and forth between trying to temper Draco's arrogance and Neville's anxiety, Harry didn't even realise it was Hallow's Eve until Theo had started going on about how his brother told him what muggles did every year.

"He says they dress up in these weird costumes, and some of them try to look like wizards and witches, which is just _sad_, and they go around their neighborhoods begging for sweets! Isn't that just bonkers?" He said, grinning. "That's what they do, right Harry?"

Harry absently nodded, pushing eggs around with his fork. He stood abruptly, abandoning his plate. "Gonna head to class." He rushed out, snatching his bag and dashing out of the Great Hall.

Theo blinked. "What's his problem?"

Harry sighed, walking down the hallway. Everyone was excited today, with the smell of pumpkin wafting through the castle and the teachers gearing up for more than the basics. The upper-years were planning some after-party for after the feast, and Mrs. Zabini-who he still didn't feel comfortable calling Nicola, much less "Aunt Nicky" as Blaise had been teasing- had even sent some pumpkin pastries her elves had made. But Harry couldn't even work up a good mood. It felt as though he were tossing trash on a grave if he did.

After all, his parents did die today.

It's not that he felt some monumental grief or loss from them being dead. He had lived without them for 11 years, only had a few blurry memories of them. And that wasn't going to change. But it felt disrespectful, in some way, to celebrate on the day they sacrificed themselves for him.

Walking into the Charms classroom, he sat down and pulled out the textbook, reading over the levitation spell. Only two other people were there already; Professor Flitwick was writing something at his desk, and smiled when Harry came in, and Hermione Granger had her head buried in a book two aisles up. He read over the mechanics of the spell as he waited, making sure he knew the correct incantation and wand movement. He'd have to do them correctly if he didn't want anyone wondering why he'd done it wrong and the feather still went up.

The class slowly filled up as per usual, people coming in in tiny groups or pairs. Blaise and the others soon showed up, and the four of them made a beeline for him.

"Harry, are you okay? You were acting a bit strange during breakfast." Blaise said worriedly.

He grimaced at them. "Yeah, I just... don't really want to celebrate today. Sorry if I spoiled the fun." Understanding dawned on their faces, and Blaise patted him on the back, not saying anything.

Class started upbeat, with Professor Flitwick making some books zip around the classroom. He put them all in pairs to practice the spell, and Harry was stuck with Terry Boot as a partner. He was an amiable enough boy, not minding that he was paired with a Slytherin. Draco, in all his pureblood glory, had been stuck with Hermione Granger. Harry couldn't tell who was angrier about it, but he was pretty sure both were close to hitting the other over the head.

"Now students, don't forget the wrist movement we've been practicing! A small swish and _flick_! And saying the incantation correctly is vital as well- one syllable wrong and you could end up with a buffalo on you chest like Wizard Baruffio!"

It was difficult managing the movements. Harry would swish too long, or Terry would do more of a wave than a flick. Their feather lay still on the desk until Harry was so frustrated he jabbed it with his wand and accidentally set it on fire. That ended with him patting it out with robe sleeve, which was thankfully element-resistant.

Draco wasn't having much luck either, by the sound of it.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" He shouted, waving his wand like a conductor.

"You're not saying it right." Harry heard Hermione snap, "It Levi-_o_-sa. you need to stress the O."

"You do it then, if you're so perfect Granger!" Draco yelled.

There was a ruffle of fabric, and then Hermione saying, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" Harry turned around in time to see their feather rise and hover four feet above their heads.

"Excellent!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it! Ten points to Ravenclaw!" Hermione was sitting primly, while Draco looked ready to throw something.

By the end of the class, he was unbearable.

"It's no wonder no one can stand that mudblood," he spat before Harry could shock him, "She's a horror, that girl."

Someone knocked into Theo, nearly pushing him to the ground. It was Hermione- Harry could see from the glimpse of her face that she was in tears. This time, he really did shock Draco as hard as he could, scowling.

"She heard you, you horse's arse. This is why I can't take you anywhere decent." Harry growled.

Hermione didn't show up to lunch, and wasn't in any of the Ravenclaw classes, if whispers were to be believed. Harry felt a pang of pity for the girl, ostracised for not knowing how to socialise. It was like watching a younger him try to make friends on the playground. Except with less chasing and terror. He later heard Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe saying she was hiding in the girls' bathroom. The others were quiet as they left for the feast. He was staying behind- he had no intention of doing much tonight besides reading.

Rummaging through his satchel, he found one of the library books- a book they had used for the Herbology project weeks ago. Harry frowned, turning it over, trying to remember why he still had it. After what everyone called "The Hell Beast" incident, they had just dropped them on the floor. He didn't think they actually even used them, in fact- just went through their Herbology and Potions textbook and matched things up. Of course, that meant he had had it for... about a _month_. Making a decision, Harry stood, book under his arm. He had to return it, and it was no good staying in his room all night.

He quietly closed the door behind him, and sedately walked out of the common room. No one was roaming the halls, all of them at the feast. Harry didn't doubt that even Filch was there, eating his fill. As he was walking towards the stairs to the ground floor, Harry could hear a strange noise. There was a thumping behind him, making the ground shudder each time it sounded. Looking behind himself, he couldn't see anything, and warily turned back. The thumping continued getting louder and louder, and he turned again as he was on the stairs to see a huge, hulking, smelly shape pass the corner nearest to him. His jaw dropped, and he scurried as quietly as he could down the stairs. Peering about the corner, he could see the back of some horrid shape- just what _was _that? He watched it thump, thump, thump down the hall, and turn to-something. He would have run to the Great Hall for help if it weren't for the ear-splitting shriek that immediately followed.

Harry pivoted back and forth, torn on what to do and terrified. If he went down there to whatever that thing was, there was a good chance he'd get maimed just going by its size and the club. If he didn't, whoever was there might die. Dragging his nails through his hair, he made a split-decision and raced down the corridor to the creature.

"If I die, I'm blaming that damned book." He groaned the creature getting bigger and bigger as he approached. Once he was close enough, he could see it was inside the girls' bathroom, and that someone was shrieking their heads off inside. At a closer look, he could see it was Hermione Granger. She was crouched in one of the stalls, hands over her head and in the fetal position. The thing was swinging at the stalls, breaking them more and more. It'd hit her soon.

"Hey, ugly!" Harry called, cupping his hands. The hulking creature turned towards him, club hand swinging dangerously. "Come get me!" He yelled running into the hallway. It followed on humongous feet, each stomp echoing down the hallway. "I'm so screwed, I'm so screwed, I'm so screwed..." He chanted. He made a sharp turn, bumbling up the stairs and only tripping a few times. Spinning around, he could see that the troll was having a hard time walking up them, too tall for the ceiling and its feet too large to correctly walk. Harry whipped out his wand and cast the first spell he could remember that was good for offense.

"_CONFRINGO!" _He screamed. It hit the thing dead on, but instead of exploding, only knocked it back. It seemed to get angry at that, and began to charge at the staircase to try and get to him.

He cast the spell again and again, and only managed to make it angrier, the spell having barely an effect. He pocketed his wand, knowing it was fruitless and watching the monster ram itself into the wall. The stone was slowly cracking. Soon, it'd break, and that thing would be able to get to him. That thought filled him with dread, terror, and adrenaline, and he threw his arms out in a last desperate attempt at doing something.

Strands of green shot out from them, reaching and wrapping around the creature and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing until it went limp within their grasp. When it was finished, they dissolved, leaving Harry exhausted, scared, confused, and letting the thing fall to the ground with a loud THUNK.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and soon, Professors Quirrell, Snape, and McGonagall came across a teary-eyed Harry Potter crouched at the top of a crumbling staircase and an unconscious Hermione Granger in the girls' bathroom.

* * *

The next few hours were a flurry of movement and interrogation, with Professor Snape and McGonagall trying to sap every single detail out of them. The two of them surely would have bit his head off if it weren't for Hermione frantically telling them it wasn't his fault after waking up. "I was hiding in the bathroom," She said, "because I didn't want to have to face the others again. The others in my dorm have been... not that nice. Harry saw it coming down the hall, and must have heard me scream. He drew it away, professors." She had said, averting her red eyes with shuffled feet. Harry was eternally grateful she spoke up.

They hardly believed that Harry had thrown at least three _confringo_s at the troll, until Quirrell had said it matched the burn patterns on the troll's chest. And he had only learned that it was a troll when they explained that it had gotten into the castle. The Headmaster had sent everyone back to their common rooms, which frankly made no sense since they were told it started in the dungeons _where the Slytherin common room was_. It was around 10 when they were let go to go back to their respective common rooms after being thoroughly inspected for injuries and- surprisingly- Harry given five points for protecting another student. Harry felt that was a bit much, seeing as he could have easily died too. He also felt that he wasn't going anywhere near the mountains for a very, very long time.

They walked to the stairways silently, both tired and drained. It was a short walk, and they soon reached their fork in the road.

Harry hesitated for a moment, trying to think of something to say, when Hermione pounced on him, hugging him fiercely. He stood there stiff for a moment before reciprocating, awkwardly patting her on the back. She eventually pulled away, teary-eyed and smiling.

"Thanks, Harry." she whispered, and raced up the stairs. He watched her go.

* * *

So this chapter is kinda short compared to the recent ones, but i really want each of them to end at certain points, which is why this is so short. I can only write so much about something without it seeming excessive or over-detailed to me. :/ Thank you for readin, please review!


	7. In Which Children Do Not Behave

ono AN and stuffies at bottom. I don't own Rowling, and this is mostly unbeta'ad besides my read through. The info for the link i talked about two chapters ago is below vvvvv

http regina-nigra deviantart com ATRONACH-481764625?ga_submit_new=10%253A1410479826

**SLIGHTLY EDITED 30.9.14**

* * *

Harry smiled as he walked down into the dungeon, and smiled when he reached the common room, and kept smiling when he entered. Everyone was clustered in the cavernous room, yelling about the troll or Dumbledore or even Quirrell for some reason. Some had sandwiches clutched in their hands, and others were completely ignoring everything and trying to eat. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could dazedly spot the other firsties talking with worried expressions.

When the wall disappeared, conversations fell silent as people turned towards it, surely expecting Professor Snape or another teacher. Many blinked in confusion, and going by their winces, Harry supposed he must look a bit... off, right now. He didn't say anything as they watched, and started to walk towards the dormitories. About three steps in he was barreled over by the other first-years, mostly the boys, who were jabbering so loudly and quickly that even he couldn't tell what they were saying. Blaise was the loudest, yelling in Italian in his ear and squeezing the air out of him with the force of his grip. Some of the older students looked like they wanted to try and help, but as soon as the impromptu dog-pile had started, it ended. Vincent and Greg pulled him up, practically carrying him down the stairs as the others followed. Harry could hear the shuffling of feet and whispers as they left, and the slow tread of someone coming through the wall. Professor Snape must have finished the business with the other staff.

He was still smiling, smiling away as the others dumped him on the floor, one of the girls casting a surprisingly-advanced privacy ward around them. As soon as that was done, they settled around him in their customary meeting position, scowling or scanning him for injuries.

"...Harry, why are you grimacing? You look like you're in pain or something." Blaise asked, peering as his face worriedly and poking his cheek. The not-smile slid off his face in response. Harry opened his mouth to respond, paused, and closed it again. He couldn't answer that. He didn't know where to start.

"I-" He tried, cutting himself off quick. A shudder racked him, and he raised his hands to run them through his hair before stopping halfway, remembering it was still in a ponytail. A hand placed itself on his shoulder, and he looked over, startled. Pansy was staring back, eyebrows deeply furrowed.

"Potter, _what happened_? You weren't here when we got in, and you sure weren't in the Great Hall. Don't go flimsy on us." Harry blinked, and brushed off her hand.

"It was- it was the troll. I was rushing to the library when it passed down the hall. I was going to head to the Great Hall, but it started to attack- attack Granger so I distracted it and knocked it out."

They were still staring at him, he was sure, and Blaise was a choked noise next to him.

"Just- Harry? What do you mean, distracted and knocked it out?" Blaise said in a strained voice. Harry shrugged his shoulders and made a half-hearted gesture with his hands. Blaise put his hands on his shoulders and just left them there, gripping them hard.

"Did you- did you throw stuff at it, burn it, suffocate it, what, Potter?" Moon said impatiently.

"Um, I threw a few _confringos _at it. It knocked into the wall opposite and passed out." He lied, looking down at his hands.

"Are you _serious_?" Moon burst out, "You're telling us that _you_, a first-year, managed to knock out a fifteen-foot troll using a few _confringos _and got away with no scrapes whatsoever!" She yelled, throwing her hands up in the air. Harry could hear a quiet "ow", and someone shifting.

"I-I did what I did, okay?" He burst out, glaring at her. "All I know is that I blasted t it with _confringos _from the stairs, and when it started to crumble the roof I put all I had into the last one and sent it flying. _You _try describing nearly dying in detail." He hissed. Moon looked sufficiently cowed, although all of them had curious expressions on their faces.

"You must be really strong to do that, Harry." Theo said. "That's a third-year spell, and an unstable one at that. You were really pushing it, using that!" Blaise whacked him upside the head for that comment, but Harry didn't really mind it. He _was _lucky. He was lucky he heard it behind him, and lucky he left the dungeons before it could find him, and lucky that those weird... strings had appeared. It was like he had a seven-leaf clover stuffed somewhere on his person.

"...Well, I think we should all just be thankful we didn't have to have a vigil the next day. I don't think I'd be able to take that." Blaise murmured, glancing around at the others. They shifted uncomfortably, and muttered assents.

"Honestly, I think it'd be a bit gloomy without you, Potter. You brighten up the day in the morning with your mother-henning." Millicent said, smiling at him. Harry smiled back, happy at least someone wasn't directly focusing on the almost-dying thing. He stood, stretching, and faked a yawn.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I feel exhausted enough to fall into a coma. I'm going to head to bed- see you in the morning." He gave them a wave and headed towards his room. The privacy ward dissipated as he walked through the edge of it, and some of the exhaustion he actually had faded. It made him feel less like an inferius. He could hear the others behind him getting up as well, saying good-nights, and breathed a sigh of relief. Doors opened and shut, people's sounds and scents became muffled, and soon he was swinging his own door shut behind him, leaving it to the others boys to open it. He didn't particularly care for waiting for them at the moment. He stumbled and collapsed head-first onto his bed, groaning.

There was some shuffling around and whispers he ignored, and he could distinctly feel someone tiptoeing up to his side. It was a bit eerie to know exactly where they were standing, but he was damned if he was going to acknowledge it. He would have continued in his stubborn avoidance, but something prodded into his side repeatedly, calling for his attention and possibly jabbing-elbow. Pushing himself up on said elbow, he glared at the perpetrator, who turned out to be Draco. He had a double-take, not really believing the blond was there, before his glare intensified.

"Why are you bothering me- why are you even _in _here? You know Professor Snape is adamant on no one entering the other's rooms." He hissed. Draco just stared steadfastly at him, although there was a twitch in his eye.

"He meant girls aren't allowed in the boys and vice versa, but okay, I can understand why you wouldn't want me in here. But that's besides the point. What the point _is_, is that you were completely lying out in the hall, and we refuse to let that sit." Harry narrowed his eyes at him, and glanced past to see Theo and Blaise standing awkwardly by the door with determined looks on their faces.

"I was elected since they didn't want you to elbow them, by the way." Draco added, plopping himself down beside Harry on his canopied bed. The other two boys sat in front of them with faces worse than those you see at an intervention. Harry pushed himself up, feeling more and more like he should just go beg a patch of floor to sleep on from an upper-year. He tugged his hair out of its ponytail, running his fingers through it. It was shaggy and in need of a trim. Glancing at the others, he asked,

"Well?"  
"Well, what really happened?" Draco asked exasperatedly. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Like I said, I threw a few _confringos _at it."

"And? _Confringos _can't knock out a mountain troll, Potter. They have magic-resistant skin." Harry stiffened. He hadn't known that. He hadn't known that at all. He raced through his thoughts, trying to make an excuse, and coming up with none.

"I... I freaked out at the end." He said, vaguely his arms. Draco was not impressed, and looked ready to poke him again. "I don't know what it was, okay? I was pretty much beyond me tether at that point and about to scream my lungs out."

"Describe it." Draco was just not giving this up. Theo had leaned in by this point, interested, and Blaise looked dubious of all things. Harry supposed he was regretting doing this as some group-style confrontation now. Good.

"It was... green string. Wrapped around the troll and squeezed it until it passed out." The three of them gave him blank stares.

"String."

"From how I saw it. It was like green string shot out from my arms. They disappeared when the troll went under. Can I go to bed yet? I really am exhausted." Draco rolled his eyes, and was about to say something, but Theo cut him off.

"From your arms? Not from your wand or the ground?" He asked, staring intently at Harry. He nodded uncertainly. Theo hummed, furrowing his brows.

"What is it?" Blaise asked, finally speaking up.

"Nothing, I think. Let me just look a few things up." Theo said absently. Harry decided that was the end of the conversation and began to push Draco of the room. The Malfoy protested at first, but quieted down when he saw the aggravated expression on Harry's face.

With Malfoy out, Harry promptly booted the others away from his bed and proceeded to hog the shower for the next half hour, letting the hot spray flow over his head as he tried to clear his mind.

* * *

The next morning, the Great Hall was more quiet than ever. Most everyone was trying to figure out how the troll got into the dungeon, or whispering about the rumours started in Ravenclaw that morning, or staring at the Slytherin table.

Now, about the first week of school, no one would stop glancing to the Slytherin table, obviously whispering about the shocker this year. Harry made sure to glare at anyone who did, but it just wasn't enough, and people had gone on. It had quickly ended, thankfully, and there hadn't been many recurrences besides the broom delivery and the accidental food fight that started because of Flint and Greg. Greg had been eating messily as always and accidentally let his spoon whip around along with his hand. Ten seconds and one irate sixth year later, mashed potatoes and chicken was being flung in their direction, and all hell broke loose. Flint still didn't know who had flung the peas at him, poor sod.

Today, however, there was a bit of an abnormality. Just a bit. Almost everyone was in their normal seats near the Staff's Table, and the same food as usual was put in front of them. Harry stole his usual cinnamon pancakes with sausage, and Draco got his usual bacon and eggs, and Theo his oatmeal. The only difference was that Harry and _Neville _were sweating bullets wedged between an irate Blaise and talkative trio of boys had met outside the Great Hall, Blaise profusely apologising for last night and Neville frantically asking if they were okay- he seemed to have more common sense than Dumbledore when it came to safety, it seems. Walking through the door, Harry had instantly spotted Hermione next to his usual spot, reading a book. Harry had stopped the others in their tracks, gripping Neville's arm so hard he whimpered.

"If I have to do this, I am not doing this alone. If I do this, I'm taking the ship down with me."

This had led to him shoving Neville down next to him, Blaise taking the next seat in line, while Hermione sat on his left. She smiled brightly when he sat down, and started going on about the new potion they were to brew in Potions. Harry bewilderingly went along, not really expecting absolutely any of this, and ignored the looks of vast disapproval he got from the present upper-years. He pinched Neville from time to time to get him to speak up, which prompted a lead into Herbology, which Hermione viciously disliked and only saw as useful due to its applications. Which led to a fierce debate over his shoulders between the two, and Harry looking to Blaise for salvation. His salvation plea was readily denied in favor of bananas and oatmeal. Traitor.

The first-years sitting with them barely talked, murmuring to themselves and giving Harry's "mixed bag-o-nuts" unpleasant looks. He gave them helpless looks in return, trying to tell them he had no idea what was going on anymore and could you please not act mad it's not his fault he saved her. To avoid getting the reality of being stuck between two people fully ready to attack each other, he watched the Great Hall, trying to put names to the faces that came in. He could see Boot and Edgecombe staring at their table as though it was a three-headed ape. The Weasley twins were discussing something with their cohort Lee Jordan, grinning from time to time. Cedric Diggory looked like he was reevaluating his life choices surrounded by the first-year 'Puffs.

His eyes nearly slid over him when he saw Ron.

The other boy was standing in the giant doorway of the Hall, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot with a pink-tinged face. Harry wondered what was wrong with him, and startled when Ron glanced over to him. Their eyes met, and Ron jerked his head, silently asking. Harry considered not getting up, but then had Hermione shriek say particularly loud that devil's snare was just a nuisance in his ear and decided that anything was better than this right now.

Standing, he told the others he was popping to the wash closet and slowly walked out of the Great Hall. A few people watched him, but his nonchalant act bored them quick. Except for two pairs of eyes at Gryffindor, suspicious and untrusting. He walked out and glanced around, seeing Ron standing off to the side in a small dead-end. Trotting over, he raised an eyebrow at the other boy.

"What is it?" He asked. Ron jolted, as though not expecting him to talk, and fumbled around a bit, rubbing his arm.

"Eh-uh-well... I wanted to see if you still wanted to be. You know. friends." He said lamely. Harry tilted his head, both eyebrows rising.

"It's been two months, Ron. I pretty much gave up four weeks ago." Ron flinched at that, and stared steadfastly at the floor.

"I know, I know I just.. everyone's talking about how you saved Granger and-"

"And you thought I wasn't such a slimy Slytherin." Harry finished flatly. Ron flinched again. "I don't mind that Ron, I expected that sort of thing with all the discrimination. But you didn't come to me until I did something stupid and obvious. I'd rather not have that hanging over my head the whole time we hang out, you know?" He said, smiling sadly.

Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, and slowly nodded with a frown on his face. Harry patted him on the back, a parting slap in the face, and walked back to the Slytherin table. The others ignored him as he sat down, and he was relieved to find that Hermione and Neville had calmed down from their fierce debate. Or tiff. whichever you preferred.

"Har-" Blaise started, but Harry quickly glared at him, shutting the Italian boy up. He raised his hands in peace, smiling. "I was just going to ask a hypothetical question. Nothing related to your growing or shrinking Band of Misfits." He said in a soothing tone.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Weeeeelll, we all know about your alias here at the table, but something occurred to me a bit ago. If you-" he pointed at Harry- "are Augustus, what does that make the Dark Lord and Dumbledore?" Some of the others had turned towards their row, interested. A few of them looked irritated, but Harry tell why. He didn't really care either.

"Gaius Germanicus and Nerva." Harry answered immediately, violently spearing a sausage. Blaise boggled at him, and he shrugged. "What? No one said they had to follow chronological order. The Dark Lord was insane enough at the end to be Gaius or Caligula, whichever you prefer, although I did hear he was particularly good-looking before his slip-" At this point, Gemma Farley three seats over began choking on her toast- "-and Dumbledore is liked enough to be Nerva. And I'm Augustus because things in this backwards world have supposedly been more peaceful than they have in years." He finished, chewing his sausage. The Slytherins were mulling this over, while Neville and Hermione had curious expressions.

"Good-looking?" Blaise asked, sporting a wry grin.

"Your mother talks about many a thing, Blaise, now eat your food. "

"You call yourself Augustus? Isn't that a bit arrogant?" Hermione asked, eyebrows furrowed in disapproval. Neville glanced between him and her, looking more and more confused. Harry doubted Neville even knew who the emperor was.

"Well, I was nine when I suggested it. Blaise didn't want his pure-blooded posse to know who he was talking to, and I made the name up on the top of my head. It was useful for keeping people from the whole fame thing up until the point it made Draco and Ron go into tizzies after sorting." He argued, frowning. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco and Theo gaping like offended fish. They were stoutly ignored. Hermione hummed, and left it at that, surprisingly.

They spent the rest of the time enthusiastically talking about Roman emperors with confused pure-bloods asking constant questions.

* * *

That afternoon, the Slytherin first-years headed to potions as usual to learn how to brew burn-healing paste. They had taken to their usual spots, and were waiting for Snape to appear. Oddly enough, the man was not in his usual spot, hiding in the dark corner of the room, and was actually nowhere to be seen. Harry briefly wondered where he was before realising that the teachers were probably sorting out the mess from last night still.

"Potter- are you even listening?" Draco said impatiently, waving a hand in front of his face. Harry had no qualms shocking it and grinning when Malfoy pulled it back, cursing.

"I still haven't figured out how you do that..." The blond muttered under his breath. "Anyways, why did you have to bring Granger to our table? Longbottom I can stand, I was actually expecting him long before this, but that mud-muggleborn is too much." He said, correcting himself. It seems Harry's constant shocks were working in his favour. _Oh Pavlov, how we must thank you. _He thought vindictively.

"I keep _telling _you Draco, she was there when we went in. I dragged Neville and Blaise with me because I refused to talk to her alone. She must feel indebted or something because of last night." Talk went quiet around them, but Harry ignored it. Draco winced of all things, and their argument ended._ Why is everyone acting like I'm suddenly fine porcelain?_

"Now that you two are done, Harry, did they look like actual string or was it more of just lines last night?" Theo asked behind them, not looking up from the parchment he was writing on.

"Uh... just lines I suppose. They were really thin, which is why I called them string." Harry said dubiously. Theo nodded, writing some more on the parchment. Peering closer, Harry could see that it was a letter. He was about to ask Theo just what this was all about when Professor Snape burst in, limping to the front.

Limping?

Looking closely, Harry could see he had a distinct limp he was trying to hide on the left side, and he smelled strongly of wet fur and potions, more so than usual. He had gone to the Hospital Wing then, or was an obsessive clean freak with a dog.

The man wasn't in any sort of good mood today, and barked at them to go get ingredients as the potion recipe appeared on the board. Everyone rushed to their supplies, and Harry told Neville as kindly as he could to stay-the-hell-put-we-cannot-risk-this-today. The Gryffindor didn't seem to mind his thinly-veiled d̶e̶m̶a̶n̶d̶ plea at all as he was already shaking. Wondrous.

Harry wrangled up their ingredients and headed back to the desk, going through the usual Potions routine he had with Neville. He would take care of preparation of the items while Neville would do the stirring and such. He'd keep the other calm by talking about the latest lesson in Herbology or some muggle thing Harry thought would interest him. Whenever Professor Snape stalked over, they would halt the conversation and act like diligent little dunderheads. Of course, Snape rarely come over, nearly avoiding them. Today, he decided they deserved a punishment for being in his class and came over, giving their potion and them a critical eye. When he must have found nothing wrong (And thank all the gods for that), he sneered and whipped around to yell at Dean and Thomas for already messing up their monstrous concoction. On that day, the class remembered not to grow complacent in the presence of Severus Snape.

* * *

The weather turned very cold after that dreadful Hallow's Eve. The mountains surrounding the loch and school turned a steely grey, and the ground was periodically covered with frost in the mornings. More and more days saw the little firsties bundled up in their scarves and gloves along with the occasional hat. If you looked out an upstairs window, you could sometimes see Hagrid banging the broomsticks in the Quidditch field to rid them of frost.

Quidditch season had just begun. For the Slytherins, their first match was on Saturday with the Gryffindors. To say Harry was nervous was like saying kittens were just "energetic". Flint was having them practice every night, pushing them to their limits before yelling at them to drop down. It made Harry happy that he grasped spells quickly, or else he would surely be failing Transfiguration and Charms. Herbology thankfully didn't require much consciousness to function.

Hermione continued to sit with or by him, often interrupting conversations to put her two cents in. Harry didn't quite mind it as much as he used to in Charms, since she seemed to mellow out with her toadying and attitude. She was also more open to discussion than the other first-years, who mostly groaned when he started going off about something (went into one of his moods, they said).

"I've been reading up on Quidditch since you told me you were going to be playing, Harry, and you wouldn't believe some of the rules to the game! There are seven hundred ways to foul, and the game _has _to keep going until the snitch is caught. It says in here that one game in Belgium went on for_ four months _before someone caught it! They had to constantly switch out players so they could sleep!" She exclaimed the day before the match. Her, Blaise, Harry, and Neville were sitting under a tree in the courtyard. It was tall, and almost looked pretty with the frost hanging from it. Hermione was reading from a book she had picked up in the library called _Quidditch Through the Ages_. She had embarrassedly told them that she didn't actually like Quidditch, but that it would help Harry so she checked it out. Blaise refused to stop making kissy noises whenever they were near each other from that point on.

Glancing up, Harry could see Professor Snape limping across the courtyard. His limp had yet to get better, it seems, and the man was rancorous every day it continued. He spotted them, and seemed to have an internal conflict before brusquely walking over.

"Granger, what have you got there? A library book?" Hermione nodded reluctantly, and Snape smiled unpleasantly. "It is against school rules to have library books outside of the school. Hand it here- 5 points from Ravenclaw." She looked ready to argue with him, but a well-placed jab from Harry's weapon-elbow stopped her. So she handed the book over scowling the whole time. Snape took it and went off to wherever his business was.

"He so made that up." Harry muttered.

"I wonder why he's limping?" Blaise said, ignoring Harry. The others glanced at him, and then to where Snape had disappeared to. None of them could answer that.

* * *

Later that evening, during a reprieve of Flint's monstrous practice, Harry sneaked off from the Slytherin common room. Dinner had passed and everything was going about their nightly business. He was going heading down to the staffroom to see if he couldn't ask the man to give him Hermione's book. The professor really was an arse today- taking out his pains on innocent students. _Tsk, tsk Bat, not a good idea at all._

Walking down to the staffroom, he could hear someone talking through the door, and saw a blob of red glimmering through the wall. He paused before knocking, curious.

"... supposed to keep your eyes on three heads at once? It's like Albus has gone mad." Was that Snape? That had to be- and there was no possibility he was talking about something other than The Beast they had seen in the Corridor of Child Death. Just why did _he _know about it? There was some shuffling, and Harry could hear- fabric? Cotton? He strained his ears to hear more, but whatever it was, it was quiet. Sighing, he decided to just get on with it.

When he knocked on the door, he could hear cursing on the other side before it swung open to reveal Professor Snape's irate face. Filch was behind him, holding a roll of bandages and what might have been Essence of Murtlap. The smell that had hung around Snape for the past few days had intensified, and now had an underlayer of blood, thick and sluggish. Professor Snape glowered down at him, not wanting to deal with this at all.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I was wondering if I could get Hermione's book, sir. She really wants to return it." Snape made a few unintelligible noises, gritting his teeth. To Harry, it sounded like the times Vernon had cut himself off in public so people didn't disapprove. It made him shrink back a bit, but Snape turned before he noticed. He limped over to some area outside of Harry's vision, and came back with the book in his hands. The tall man shoved it into his hands and slammed the door shut, not even dignifying Harry with a parting scathing remark. Harry decided it was best to take his luck when it came by and just rushed back to the common room to tell the others what he had heard.

The others looked on curiously as he rushed in, momentarily saying the password- Pluto, which was at least better than "pureblood" and a show of how begging for something less stupid worked in Harry's favour- and he simply waved his hands frantically at the other first-years before rushing down the stairs. Soon he could hear the clamour of them following, damn the stares, and smiled.

Spinning around, he signaled for Millicent to put up a privacy ward and plopped down on the ground with an excited expression on his face. They had had about five of these "firstie meetings" as the others had started coining them. The prefects thought it was decidedly strange and a bit worrisome, but made no move to stop them due to the fact one of the prefects, Albret, had tried to follow them down once and had gotten shocked and turned fire-engine red for two weeks. After that, no one even tried to peer down there as they held them.

They congregated in their usual imperfect oval, with Harry at the very end and Blaise and Theo squatted next to him.

"Well, Harry?" Pansy asked, "What is it this time? Snape whisper the secrets of the castle when you went to get the m-muggleborn's book?"

"Sort of!" Harry said, not letting her mocking dampen his mood. "I was going down to the staffroom and I could hear someone talking inside before I knocked so I stopped and listened in- Blaise stop giving me that look I was curious- and Professor Snape was talking about_ keeping his eyes on all three heads at once_." He grinned as the others stared at him in mute, disbelieving silence. "So the Professor must have tried to get past it to that door underneath! It must be why he's been limping for so long, and why he smells like the Hospital Wing half the time now!"

"...Potter, that's not quite a good thing to be excited about." Millicent said, giving him an odd look. He pouted.

"But this is a lead! To the thing or whatever that is under The Beast! Whatever it is, it's important enough that Snape wants it!" He argued.

"He might not want it, though." Daphne said, timidly speaking up. "Maybe he just doesn't like The Beast, or is guarding it, or wants to destroy it. There are multiple possibilities." They all paused at that, considering. Would Snape really try to get past The Beast just to protect something , or destroy it? Would it really be worth it?

"...Whatever it is, it definitely is important." Draco finally said, breaking the silence. "Professor Snape wouldn't waste time on something unless it was important, or unless he had to. And Potter, who said we were even looking into it? I thought we had all agreed to never speak of anything related to that again."

"Well, yeah, but don't you think it's a bit suspicious? First Dumbledore decides to tell the whole school they'll die horribly if they go into a certain corridor, then Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and I find a giant three-headed dog that's guarding something in said Corridor of Violent Death, and the next day we find out the gamekeeper knows what it is and that it's in the school. On Hallow's Eve, everyone's practically given a heart attack over the troll, and we find out barely a week later that Professor Snape tried to get past the three-headed dog for some reason or the other. Something's going on, and spells bad in every way for me." Harry explained, frowning. The others had uneasy expressions, and even Draco was uncertain on how to rebuke that. Only Theo seemed to be unaffected.

"Well, we just have to research then, don't we? Obviously, Hagrid, Snape, and Dumbledore are all in on it, so we should look in on them. Maybe they could give us a clue to what's going on. I say in our free time, when we aren't busy, we split up. Two of us watch Snape, two watch Hagrid, and four of us go the library. The other two will monitor the Corridor from time to time and report if anyone is going through it. We should probably brush up on spells as well, since things are getting so hectic." He suggested, reading over something in his hands. Harry blinked.

"Theo, I think that's the first time in a meeting you haven't suggested something completely stupid. But you do realise it's going to be difficult following around two staff members without being noticed, right?" Theo giggled at that.

"Harry, you're a wizard, what do you think we'll do, just dart from corner to corner? There are disillusionment and muffling spells we can use." Harry flushed, and crossed his arms when some of the others snickered at that.

"Oh shut up, you lot! Now, who should do what..."

* * *

The ten of them talked about it through the night, arguing and insisting that they should do that or that it wasn't a good idea to be looking up that. Around 11, they decided to put the topic to rest and retire for the night. So far, they had decided that Millicent, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne would research in the library, Draco and Harry would follow Snape, Pansy and Greg would follow Hagrid, and Vincent and Moon would watch the library. Any chances they had to interfere were to be taken, no matter what position they were assigned. Harry had vehemently opposed being put with Draco, but Theo had shut him down immediately on the basis of them needing someone who personally knew Snape to watch him.

"Personally knows him?" He had asked, confused.

"He's my godfather." Draco replied.

They still didn't know exactly what to research, or look out for, or what to use to hide themselves, but it was a start.

Harry groaned as he woke up the morning, and turned over before his eyes snapped open. He bolted up, commanding _time _only to see he had accidentally slept in, and that it was Saturday. Groaning again, he fell back onto his pillow. Today was the day of the match.

It was bright and cold that morning, and everyone at the table was excited. The members of the Quidditch team were excited and ready to pummel Gryffindor into the ground, but Harry really just wanted to disappear. He picked at his pancakes as Hermione and Blaise tried to cheer him up.

"Come on Harry, I'm sure you'll do fine! You were a natural on the broom during lessons, and that was just the dingy school one!" Blaise exclaimed, rubbing his back. Harry muttered something unintelligible in response, more focused on the letter he had gotten this morning. Mrs. Zabini was still mailing him- although he had finally caved in and had started calling her Nicola in the letters- and had gave him the best of wishes for his match. He had bemoaned of it to her in his last letter, along with a few choice phrases about the school and its security that he probably shouldn't have written down. She had waved off her concerns and laughed at his curses, but was concerned. "_A troll?" _She wrote, "_Please tell me you have miswrote, Harrison. How did they incapacitate it, much less let it in? Is Dumbledore really that incompetent? Are the two of you alright?"_

Her concern made him warm. Of course, he didn't know how to tell her he was the one who knocked it out, but she would probably find out when Blaise's letter reached her.

"You've got to eat Harry," Hermione piped up, staring disapprovingly at his still-fill plate. "You're skinny enough, and you'll need your strength today." Harry twitched, and could hear Moon muttering about having another mother-hen at the table. He kicked her ankle in retaliation, relishing in her yelp.

"Yeah, Harry, Seekers are the ones that get knocked around the most, so you'll need your strength!" Theo said brightly across from him.

"Thank you for the advice, Theo." Harry replied as he watched the other boy drown his fruit in sugar.

* * *

By 11 the Quidditch pitch was filled to the brim with students and teachers, all cheering and yelling in excitement. Blaise, Neville, and Hermione had crowded at the top of the Slytherin Stand, and had painted an old sheet from one of the abandoned rooms with different shades of green, blue, and yellow. They had written Go Go Potter on it, and one of them had tried to draw a snake, which had turned out looking closer to a squiggle than anything, but it was the thought that counted. It was to be a surprise for Harry when he and the team flew out.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry was changing into his forest green robes; Gryffindor would be playing in scarlet. Flint cleared his throat to catch their attention, and they all turned to him.

"Alright men and women, we are going up against Gryffindor again. If we play by our straights, we'll beat them into the ground like every other year." Flint smirked at them. "Now get out there and show some house pride."

Harry followed the six of them out of the locker room and walked out into the field, hoping he wouldn't throw up with how many people were looking and cheering.

Madame Hooch was refereeing, and was standing in the middle of the field, waiting for the two teams to emerge. She held her own broom in hand.

"I want a fair game from all of you," She said as they gathered around her. She seemed to speak particularly to Flint and the Weasley twins, giving the three of them a baleful eye. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the fluttering banner high above in the stands, and something loosened in his chest. He felt less ready to sick up.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry swung onto his Nimbus 2000 and clutched the handle hard. Madame Hooch gave a shrieking blast of her whistle, and they were off. The fifteen of them rose high into the air, the chasers and beaters and keepers all racing off in different directions. The Gryffindor Seeker, a small, mousy girl, started to search the sky, swiveling this way and that as she flew off. Harry could hear the announcer, Lee Jordan, already reading off plays.

"And the Quaffle is taken instantly by Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor, excellent Chaser that girl is, not that bad of a looker either-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

It appeared he was being watched by Professor McGonagall, with good reason.

"She's really belting along up there, making a neat pass to Spinnet, former reserve now official- now back to Johnson and- no, Slytherins now have the Quaffle. Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes- flying like an eagle up there, way high- he's almost- no, stopped by an excellent move from Gryff Keeper and Captain Oliver Wood and the Quaffle is back to the lions- Katie Bell's got it, nice dive there, off the field and- OUCH, that's gotta be a bad one, Bludger to the back of the head, Farley's playing dirty this game- Quaffle is taken by the Slytherins, with Adrian Pucey speeding back to the goals- almost hit by that Bludger, good hit anyways by one of the Weasley twins- he's near the goals now- Keeper Wood dives to catch- misses- SLYTHERIN SCORES!"

Slytherin cheers filled the air, with spotted whoops from other stands and massive howls from the Gryffindors. Theo and Blaise were practically screaming their heads off, and even Hermione was cheering.

"You know, you think Harry'd have done something yet!" She yelled over the clamour.

"There's not much to do! Seekers only do one thing- catch the Snitch!" Theo yelled back.

Up above their heads, Harry was circling the pitch, peering this way and that for the blasted ball. Flint had told him to stay well out of the way beforehand, and to only focus on finding the Snitch. Harry thought it was a good plan, especially since it lowered his chances of breaking a jaw or getting a heavy metal ball to the back of his skull like the girl from Gryffindor.

When Pucey scored, he zigzagged around a bit, but tried to keep his eye out. He had seen flashes of gold occasionally, but they would turn out to be watches or something of the ilk.

"Slytherin in possession again," Lee Jordan was narrating now, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, Chaser Bell, and speeds towards- wait a tic- was that the Snitch?"

Murmurs ran through the crowd as Pucey dropped the Quaffle, startled at the flash of gold that had zipped over his shoulder. Harry could see Flint yelling at him from his spot near the goalposts.

But Harry had seen the flash, and dived downwards towards it. The Gryffindor Seeker had seen it too, or saw him racing towards it, and dived as well, bringing them neck and neck in their pursuit of it. The Chasers around the pitch seemed to have forgotten their jobs and watched as they hurtled towards it, only Pucey scrambling to get out of the way so they didn't bowl into him.

Harry was faster than the girl, and was so close he could see its tiny wings fluttering- he put on an extra burst of speed, and would have gotten the Snitch if it weren't for a very well-timed Bludger aimed to knock him off his broom.

WHAM! into his side it went, sending him spinning and almost knocking him off his broom. He locked his legs around it tight, refusing to fall and terrified at the prospect, and frantically glanced to where the Snitch was supposed to be. It had disappeared, and the mousy girl looked as disappointed as he was relieved.

"FOUL! FOUL!" Blaise shouted, jumping up and down, "THAT COULD HAVE KNOCKED HIM OFF HIS BROOM AND SENT HIM DIVING!"

"No rules against it Zabini, now shut up and sit down! Harry will be alright!" Theo yelled, tugging the other boy back into his seat. Hermione was worriedly biting her nails next to him.

"He really could have fallen off- shouldn't this game be safer, being played by teenagers?" She asked.

Lee Jordan didn't seem to mind taking a side on this.

So after a brilliant play from Gryffindor the Snitch has disappeared and Seeker Harry Potter was sent spinning like a top- hilarious-"

"Jordan!" Growled Professor McGonagall at his side.

"Sorry ma'am, we continue to play, Gryffindor in possession."

Harry dodged another Bludger, much more wary now, when something very odd happened. Hid broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a second he thought he was going to fall, and tightened his grip even more from its white-knuckled state. _That certainly never happened during practice,_ he thought, panicked.

It gave another lurch seconds later, almost like it was trying to buck him off. But non-sentient brooms did not just up and decide to buck off their riders. Harry was trying to turn it, to at least find Flint and have him call a timeout, but the damned thing wouldn't even budge. It was completely out of his control. It started to jag in the air, going this way and that and nearly knocking him off with some movements.

Jordan was still commentating through it all.

"Slytherin in possession- Farley has the Quaffle- passes Spinnet- passes Bell- hit hard with a Bludger, that's gonna sting in the morning, hope it broke her nose- only joking, Professor- Slytherins miraculously score- oh no..."

The Slytherins were cheering, and no one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was trying to go on its own jaunt. It was slowly drifting higher, forcing him to go up and up and up. Harry was slowly descending into panic, and was very, very close to just letting himself drop with a _float_.

"Hey, what's Potter doing?" Draco called from the stands, catching Blaise's attention. The Italian boy glanced up, expecting Harry to be doing something silly, and saw him rising into the sky.

"Oi Theo, give me your binoculars!" He called, narrowing his eyes. Theo tossed them, and Blaise peered up at Harry. The young Seeker had a terrified look on his face, and was saying something. Blaise frowned.

Suddenly, people all over the stands were pointing up at Harry, alarmed. His broom had started to roll over, with him trying to hold onto it more tightly than a monkey. If you were close enough, you would have heard him repeating every curse he had managed to hear come out from Vernon's mouth over his lifetime with vitriol. Then the whole crowd gasped and gaped as the broom gave another wild jerk and sent Harry swinging off of it. He was dangling from it now from one hand, and anyone paying attention could tell this was not something he ever wanted to happen.

"Did something happen to his broom when the Bludger knocked into him?" Blaise shakily whispered.

"It's not possible." Hermione replied, horrified. "The charms and spells on the broom wouldn't be affected. Only magic could do that."

At those words, Blaise made a choked noise and began searching through the crowd. If only magic could do this, then someone had to be casting the spell.

"What are you doing? Is it going to help?" Theo moaned, tugging at his hair.

"Merlin's saggy- look- opposite of us-" Blaise practically threw the binoculars at the two of them, his eyes darting between something.

The teachers were seated in the stand opposite of them. Snape was besides Quirrell and McGonagall, who was watching the scene with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. Lee Jordan was in front of her, now narrating the unwanted diversion. But the crux of it all was that Snape and Quirrell were both focused intently on Harry, Snape muttering under his breath and Quirrell with an expression that would send any child screaming for a police officer.

"You think it's one of them?" Theo hissed. Blaise flailed his arms and made a choked noise.

"It has to be! One of them has to be doing something- jinxing his broom! Maybe Quirrell can do wordless magic! We just need to do something!"

"But what!?" Theo yelled frustratedly.

"Leave it to me." Hermione said, racing from the stand and disappearing. The two boys watched after her, stunned.

"Is she going to set them on fire or something?" Theo asked. Blaise shrugged his shoulders and prayed for the best. Turning his binoculars back on Harry, Theo could see that he didn't have much longer. Harry's broom was vibrating so hard it was almost dislodging his grip. The whole crowd was watching, terrified and panicked in some places, while Farley and Flint tried to help him. It was fruitless, however; every time they got near, the broom would jump higher and higher, rattling Harry's grip each time. He yelled at them after the third time to give it up for now. They circled around him underneath, discussing what to do with the other teammates, who had stopped bothering with the game. No one tried to sneak points.

"Oh, where the hell is Granger?" Blaise muttered worriedly, scanning the stands for a glimpse of her. "How's he looking Nott?"

"Well, he's still imitating a monkey, if that's what you're asking."

Hermione had fought her way through the crowd to the staff's area by now, and was racing under the rows. Reaching the space where Quirrell's and Snape's feet were visible, she crouched down and pulled out her wand. Whispering a few well-chosen words, blue flames shot from her wand and onto the hems of the two teachers' robes.

It took about thirty seconds before the flames hit skin and the two of them realised they were on fire. Yelps and curses told her that she had succeeded, and she scooped the fires off of them into a spare jar she hid in her pocket. Dashing out from underneath the rows, she breathed a sigh of relief- Harry would be okay, and Snape would never know she had purposely set him on fire. Hopefully.

Up in the air, Harry's broom had stopped bucking and vibrating, and he was able to tug it back down and clamber on. When he was firmly seated on the handle, he nearly cried with relief.

"Blaise, he's up! He's up! HE'S ALRIGHT YES!" Theo yelled, tugging on the other boy's robe and throwing his arms around him. Blaise, who had been watching Snape and Quirrell dance around in panic for the past minute, whooped and returned the excitement-hug.

Harry was speeding towards the ground to land when the crowd saw him abruptly stop, a bewildered and annoyed expression on his face. Feeling around the back of his robes, he pulled the Golden Snitch from his collar with a disbelieving expression. He blankly stared at it a bit, not really wanting to believe it, before holding it up and waving it over his head.

"I've got the Snitch!" He hollered, and the game pretty much ended in utter confusion.

Wood was still yelling that his "catch" wasn't a catch in any sense of the word and that it wasn't fair 20 minutes later, but it didn't matter. Slytherin had won, and no rules were broken, technically. Lee Jordan was disgruntledly shouting the results- Slytherin won 210 points to 40. Harry heard none of this of course, sitting by the front door with his head in his hands. Blaise refused to let go of him, and Hermione was shaking against his shoulder.

"I don't- what _happened_? One moment my broom is a broom and then it's acting like it wants to be an honorary Gryffin." He asked dazedly.

"Someone was cursing it. Snape or Quirrell." Theo replied from his spot in front of Hermione. Harry shook his head in disbelief.

"See, this sort of thing is why I didn't want to be hundreds of feet in the air." He said bitterly.

Steps coming towards them caught their attention. Looking up through his eyelashes, Harry could see a giant figure approaching them, and almost had a flashback before realising it was just Hagrid. He had a worried expression, and approached them with PURPOSE.

"Are yeh doin' alright there Harry?" Hagrid asked, looming over them. Harry gave him a shrug and grimace, not really knowing how to answer. Hagrid awkwardly shuffled his feet and asked,

"Well, why don' yeh all come down to my hut for some tea, calm your nerves?" He asked tentatively. The four of them exchanged looks, Harry's begging _please I don't want to be near people_ and Blaise's gleaming with _we can get information this is perfect chance come on_. They came to a unanimous decision, and Harry nodded his head, smiling at Hagrid.

* * *

They could be found half an hour later sipping green tea in Hagrid's hut, clustered around his table. It was good tea, surprising considering Hagrid's track record with food. Harry was delightedly sipping his, glad to be out of the cold and with something pleasant.

"It was Snape or Quirrell," Blaise was explaining, "I looked through the crowd and saw Snape muttering under his breath and focused on you, and Quirrell was too. They wouldn't take their eyes off you."

"Now tha's just rubbish," said Hagrid, "Why would they do something like that?"

"There's the hating me thing." Harry helpfully supplied, "And maybe Professor Snape knows that we found out he's trying to get past the Beast on the third corridor."

Hagrid dropped his teapot.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" He demanded.

"_**Fluffy?**_"

"Yeah, he's mine- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year- and I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-" He stumbled and stopped, seeing the group's curious and/or eager faces. "No, none a' that, I can't be goin' off tellin' yeh. Top secret, it is."

"But it might be in danger. Fluffy might be in danger."

"Rubbish." Hagrid said again, "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, and he'd never do nothin' of the sort to either of 'em."

"So why is there a 50% chance he killed Harry at the moment?" Hermione cried. "I know a jinx when I've seen one Hagrid, we all do! We've been _studying _them-" Harry and Blaise traded glances, knowing exactly it wasn't just studying they were doing- "and you've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all! Quirrell either! I saw both of them!"

"I'm telin' yeh yer wrong!" Hagrid protested hotly. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but they wouldn't try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh- yer meddlin' isn't helpin' anybody. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Headmaster Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Wait, Nicolas Flamel?" Theo asked sharply, leaning in. "Nicolas Flamel is involved?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

* * *

After their impromptu questioning, they were rushed out of the hut again to go about their own devices. As they walked through the halls, the boys were arguing over whether or not they should call another meeting.

"This is a breakthrough- we've got to tell them!" Theo argued. He was insisting they should call an emergency meeting and talk about Nicolas Flamel and the fact it was indeed guarding something, but Blaise and Harry were reluctant to do so.

"Theo, who knows how they'll react? They've gone along with it so far- which is great since it's meant more hands to help, but this isn't the sort of thing to mix them in with. What are we going to do if one of them suddenly gets it in their head to take the thing for themselves? I know Moon's greedy enough to do something like that!" Harry argued. "We should keep this to ourselves for now, look into it alone but keep going with the patrols-"

"_Excuse_ me, but what are you three talking about?" Hermione asked loudly. They jumped, having forgotten she was there, and guiltily turned to see her irately tapping a foot. Harry glanced around, and had them duck into an empty classroom to avoid eavesdropping. Slamming up a command of _quiet_, he started to explain.

"so about the time we had our first project in Herbology Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and I had headed down to the library and were heading back, but the stairs moved on us and put us in the Corridor of Chi- err, the third corridor's right side. We tried to find a way out, and ended up stumbling on this, well, giant Cerberus that was hidden away in a room. Later, when we were having one of our first firstie meetings, we realised it had been sitting on a trapdoor."

"And then I found out for us that it was guarding something." Blaise piped up.

"Yeah, and we sort of ignored it at that point due to trauma until Hallow's Eve, where Snape, going by inference, tried to get past it and got a mangled leg in return. He'd been limping for the past week or so, and I overheard him talking about the Cerberus when I went to get your book back, which by the way I can give to you if you're willing to swing by the common room with us." Harry said. Hermione blinked in bewilderment, but nodded in agreement.

"And so we got the other first-year Snakes to agree to spying on Snape and Hagrid, watch the third corridor when we could, and find research in the library." Hermione mulled this over in silence, looking down at her shoes.

"You all are idiots," She finally decided. The trio blinked. "If you needed research, you could have just asked me. I've been researching offensive and defensive spells since... since Halloween. And you _could _have told me- I wouldn't have gone and spilled it." She said, glaring at them. Harry winced, and scratched the back of his neck.

"Sorry Hermione."

"Yeah, sorry Granger."

Her glare softened, and she finally smiled. "Why don't we go get my book before heading to dinner? It's getting pretty late."

Cancelling the spell, they headed down to the common room, Hermione politely shielding her ears when they said the password. When they walked in, they were hit by a wall of noise and people partying. Harry watched in amazement as the usually restrained Slytherins ran around yelling and laughing.

"Whoa," Theo said, and they all agreed with the sentiment. Tiptoeing in, they stayed on the fringes of the common room, trying to sneak to the staircase. But alas, their efforts were in vain, for Marcus Flint spotted them before they could make it all the way.

"POTTER, there you are!" He hollered, grinning. The large teen scooped up Harry, ruffling his hair and ruining Harry's ponytail. "We wiped the floor with those Gryffs today thanks to you! And Wood's face- it was sublime! Three cheers to our Seeker!" He yelled, and the common rose in a not-so-harmonious cheer. Harry despaired as it happened, staring desolately around the room from his noogying position in Flint's arms and praying the older boy would stop touching him soon. He could see the portrait man watching in amusement, the bastard. What Harry would give to just slip into the wall right now.

Waiting for the right moment, Harry slipped out of Flint's arms as he was joking around with a fifth year and dashed back to the group. Blaise was snickering like crazy, and even Hermione looked like she was holding back a laugh. He scowled at them as they trotted down the steps to the dorms.

They paused when they reached the bottom.

The other first-years were sitting in the accustomed oval, with a privacy ward around them. None of them noticed the four of them appearing in the archway, nor when Harry walked through the privacy ward, dispelling it.

"-that spell's useless Greengrass, how many times do I have to tell you, even Potter wouldn't be able to-" Harry cleared his throat, startling them. Pansy shot up first, turning around and relaxing when she saw it was only him.

"Oh Merlin, don't scare us like that Potter. I thought you were Snape or something. How did you dispel the privacy ward? Only the caster should be able to do that." Harry shrugged, and peered at the 7 of them.

"What are you all even doing? I don't know if you noticed, but there's a huge party going on upstairs I'd think you'd join in to." He asked. Pansy's face pinkened, and she fumbled for an answer.

"Uh-well- we were... we were talking about spells." She finally admitted. "We thought it'd probably be better to start practicing some real quick because of earlier. I mean that was- that was a jinx on your broom right? It had to be." She said, wide-eyed. Harry grimaced and nodded. The worry lines on her forehead grew.

"You're.. you're alright, right, Potter? No new dents or scratches?" She asked. Harry shook his head, and Pansy left it at that, sitting back down. Harry rushed to his room, not wanting to stay in the hall anymore, and plucked the book from where he had perched it on his nightstand. He hurried back out, and him, Blaise, Hermione, and Theo left the others to go about their own devices. The common room was slowly emptying as they walked up, and Gemma Farley spotted them from her spot near the wall.

"Hey Potter, what is she doing here? I told you not to let anyone from another house in." She demanded disapprovingly.

"You said we weren't to give out the password. She covered her ears when we said it- we made sure." He replied, the others nodding in fervent agreement. The older prefect narrowed her eyes, but didn't say anything more, only jerking her head to the door. They gladly left, ready to sit down to a wonderful meal after the chaos of the day.

* * *

...WELP. I HAD FUN WITH THIS...I like to think that the slytherin kids arent complete asses like theyre described in the books, especially since the books are written from the perspective of someone who severely dislikes them. Like, they actually treat friends like people and do more than smirk and sneer. I hope I'm doing that right?

Replies!

**dianaanne **- Again, thank you! :)

**Jon **- Ah, thank you, I hope you continue liking it!

**Guest 1 **- HAHA, I'M SO GLAD SOMEONE NOTICED THAT. Ive actually hidden tiny references throughout the chapters, along with some obvious ones like that.

**jbfritz **- I am now! :D


	8. IN WHICH I ASK FOR PATIENCE

So, this isn't an update (more of a heads-up) as you'll see in .01 seconds, but I'd rather not leave people hanging in the wind. There's been, well, a huge fucking influx in watchers and favorites on this thing in just four days, which has made me happy and sick at the same time. This has also been added to communities (**WHCICH I JUST FUCKING DISCOVERED WOW?!) **There's been some reviews, a couple rude and some calmly pointing out problems or things that didn't tick with them, which I thank you for not being complete dick-ranglers about. Buuut it's sort of made me finally push towards what I've been considering, which is putting this thing on hiatus. Yeah, I know it's a dick move after the influx, but I was already nervous and anxious about the story and I want the previous chapters to be something that are worth reading. I want them to make more sense than they did in the beginning, and I want to actually like them. So this is gonna be postponed until probably the 30th, maybe earlier or later depending on hoe it works out. I'm sorry guys, but I want to stop feeling sick whenever I get an email saying I received a review.

Thank you to the 87 who followed, and the 39 that favorited, although much of you did both.


	9. Yay! ouo

Hello again, Hayato here! Like I promised/said, I finished what I wanted to tickle by the 30th! And honestly, by now, I kinda feel better. About chapter 3 and under at least. **That's a bit of a problem too- I basically fattened up chapter 2 with more things to sort make it... make more sense? And seem less rushed? **Yeah. Also, how the hell do you all even find this? I've been getting user alerts from this thing at least once every two days since I went on hiatus. Which makes no sense since this disappears from the top archive pages pretty quick, this being a big fandom. Oh well, at least it means more people like my horrible humour and references. ANYWAYSSSS, a new chapter will be posted on Thursday or Saturday, really depending on how tomorrow goes. I've been having class trouble, and the PLAN test (naturally in caps, I'm not text yelling) is going on for the next two days. Anyone in America knows what I'm talking about, probably. But! I WILL have it out by the weekend! :)

I'm putting review replies _here_ because _holy hell you all love to comment_ now that I'm taking a leave of absence:

**Sazq -** Hello again! It's alright amicus! And who knows, hehehehe

**Guest 1 -** I'm afraid that my lack of inspiration for the beginning of the year led to me following the book a lot, which wasnt that great. So yeah, little tedious. But there are many Slytherin traits that I have been following! Rather than going by the two in the book, I am following Pottermore, which lists among the stereotypical things resourcefullness, leadership qualities, self-preservation, determination, and power! Which is what I am mainly following, with spots of Harry twisting people around. Hee.

**whatweareafreaidof -** Couldnt really understand what you were getting at? A lot of Slytherin people went bad- you can't excuse them just because of a bad childhood or something. And I always took Ron and other Gryffindors being so NRRHIGHENIFIF with the Slytherins as you know. Not liking them to a great extent. Especially after the mudblood incident and 5th year.

**Blitzstrahl - **One, rude. My story, my details, my meanings. Two, Ron is a small little idiot child who matures like any not... immature or sociopathic person does. They are all idiot children who are treating a life-or-death situation like a spy mission. Who knows _how_ he will, though?

**serialkeller - **Again, like I said to **Guest 1**, I basically threw the book at what I didn't know what to do with. oxo It'll get better, believe me, shit goes down in no particular order

**Elfwyn - **YOU WERE PMED THANKS FOR POINTING OUT SOMETHING THATS REALLY CONFUSING UNTIL LATER ON OuO

**Akela Victoire - **^u^ Thursday or Saturday!

**Cenright - **Thank sososososo much for this advice. I've been winging it for like, EVER, and keeping everything or trying to in mind when writing which wasnt a good idea obviously but I am so getting it together and writing this out and having it be awesomee!

**2lip123456789 - **ouo Thursday or Saturday!

**yuiop - **Grazie!

**atymer - **PMed! Dont know if you are actually following but!

**KitRoFei -** :D

**Guest 2 -** First of all, Im gonna say fuck you for _adding in details that werent in my story and then insulting me for things I never said or implied. _Second, not only is Smith an Anglo-Saxon name, but New York is not completely populated by Italians. Three, I don't know if you've caught on, but most everything about Mr. Smith is _fake_ or _doubtable_. His horrid accent, his attitude, you name it. No one is actually like that without hiding their deck of cards in a sleeve. The only real things about him are the fact he's American, the fact he's from NY, and the fact he doesn't like kids being treated like shit. Four, the story is weird because ITS HARRY POTTER AND MY OWN FUCKING STORY. **FIVE, I. AM. ITALIAN. MOST OF MY ITALIAN FAMILY LIVED RIGHT IN NYC OR DUTCHESS COUNTY. I KNOW HOW TO WRITE ACTUAL ITALIAN PEOPLE WHICH IS WHY MR SMITH IS NOT ITALIAN AND WHY NICOLA IS SO PROTECTIVE AND AGGRESSIVE.**


	10. In Which Trickery is Afoot

Little short, but sweet! I think I'm happy with it! Reviews at bottom! There may be problems since ive only self beta'ad this a lil in the process of sprucing some scenes! **~Hayato**

* * *

"You know what, this is pointless. Potter, I'm leaving."

Harry scowled as Moon jumped up and tossed down her book, an ugly look on her face. "What now Moon, the spells too simple for you again? How many times do I have to tell you it doesn't matter whether or not they're simple, only if they're effective?" She sneered at him.

"OH _shut _it, Potter, I'm tired of it. I'm not going to waste _my _time anymore for your little spy game. Now, if you don't mind, I'm heading back to the common room to do my _actual _schoolwork, unlike _you all. _Anyone want to come?_" _She stared out at the group expectantly, but Harry only gave it a cursory glance.

At the moment, they were sitting in a far corner of the library, perusing the various books they had scrounged from the defense and hex sections of the shelves. Blaise had even brought out some of the ones his mother had sent- although they were all in Italian. The boy reassured them that he would be able to correctly translate any spells he thought would be useful.

Over their study periods, Moon had grown steadily more irate, complaining or mocking the others for certain spells they pointed out. At one point, she had made Daphne almost run off alone because of how hard she was grilling the smaller girl. Now, it seemed she had reached her breaking point.

Harry resignedly closed his eyes as chairs scraped behind him, and flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder. Glancing up through his lashes, he could see Gregory giving him a regretful grimace, his hand feeling awkward on its perch. The boy quickly dropped it at his expression, but didn't leave just yet.

"Sorry Harry, it's just- this seems big, yeah? A bit too big for us to be comfortable with, you know? I mean, you- you could have died on your broom, during the game. We don't want something like that to happen to us." Harry bowed his head, grunting. He could understand their reasoning- they were Slytherins. They helped allies, but protected themselves above all. Helping him was a danger. With his track record of already almost-dying and finding a hell-beast in the middle of the school, he was like a red-painted target. He didn't watch them leave, but he could hear, feel the five of them leave. The only ones left were him, Hermione, Pansy, and the rest of the boys. It was unsurprisingly awkward.

"Don't worry Harry- we won't leave. This isn't just about helping you now- it's about beefing up our arsenal. Morgana knows I could learn some spells." Pansy chirped, trailing off at the end. Harry blinked at her in surprise. He honestly expected her to have left, with the Parkinson heiress always seeming more focused on fashion or getting back at the latest outcast. But now, she had a determined, if not nervous cast to her face, and had earnestly written out information she found, if her ink-covered parchment meant anything.

"..Thanks Pansy. I'm sort of surprised you stuck around- you too Malfoy. I'd have thought you'd leave the moment someone else said bugger this." Harry replied, peering at them respectively. Draco snorted, and turned his head up in disdain.

"Do you really think I'm about to abandon you, Potter? I'm not some mouse who drops a fellow Snake at the drop of a hat, no matter how frustrating they are. Besides, I doubt you'd make any progress without me." Harry rolled his eyes, and batted the other boy's arms a bit.

"Pompous brat."

"Annoying busybody."

"Pu-"

"_Boys, _the other people her would appreciate if you would quiet down. Especially since one person is writing down the details of a particularly useful spell." Hermione called loudly, interrupting their... argument. The two boys flushed.

"Okay, passing that... what has everyone found?" Harry asked the group, gathering his own paper.

"I found the leg-locker curse, and the freezing charm, and bombarda." Pansy piped up, skimming her paper. Harry hummed, and Theo leaned over to glance at her paper, eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"_Deprimo- _I'm surprised a book in the library has that. There's been cases where people instantly die because of that one." He commented mildly. Harry gave him a queasy glare, which was spitefully returned with a cheery grin.

"Well, I was mostly looking through the defense books." Blaise cut in, not wanting a fight to break out in the middle of the library (_again_). "There's the revulsion jinx- _recuso superat_- and that could be pretty useful. There's also _servo maximus, _which is some huge shield. I think. The book just lists it as a protection spell with powerful results. And _expecto patronum, _but that's only useful against dark creatures and dementors."

"I suppose it will be useful if any of us ever go to Azkaban." Harry replied drily. Blaise gave him a lopsided grin, and they went on with their magical show-and-tell.

"I found _salvio hexia_, which magnifies spells, and _Cave Inimicum, _an enemy repellant." Harry said, picking out certain ones from his list. Honestly, most of the book was focused on healing or avoidance magic, which was all and good, but not entirely encouraged by some of the trigger-happy individuals of the group. Magic-happy? They all turned towards Hermione, expectant as she was next 'round the table, but she seemed entirely absorbed in her book. Harry gently tapped her on the shoulder, startling her out her her information trance. She glanced confusedly between them before realising they were waiting, and let out a quiet "oh". Draco sighed beside Harry.  
"Gr-" Harry quickly covered Draco's mouth and asked his own question, watching Hermione shuffle her parchment. "What did you find? I know that you're looking into charms mostly, so it has to be really weird r-OH MY GOD, _MALFOY-_" Harry snatched his now wet hand back from its place, disgustedly wiping it on the side of his robes as Draco glared at him; from Madam Pince's place at the reception desk, she gave them a suspicious glance, but left them alone. Days of sucking up to her and asking after certain books seemed to have earned Hermione and Harry special places in her books. Harry still fondly remembered when the elderly woman had launched into a discussion of how to order the books with him. He still needed to convince her of the benefits of a digit system...

"Here!" Suddenly, Hermione was shoving a paper in his face and he was jumping back and trying to hold back the instinct to attack and yell later. The others gave him strange looks, but he ignored them as he huffed and snatched the paper from her hands. Reading it over, his eyebrows slowly climbed up to his head as he went through the description.

"_Servavit Tacite- _Quietly protected? This is... pretty simple Latin- is this actually a spell? Speaking of most of the ones we found in fact. Most of the ones we get taught are like... dog Latin. Or mangled Anglo-Saxon." He said slowly, considering her uncertainly. She nodded enthusiastically, taking the paper from his hands and launching into an explanation.

"Yes! It's from this really old book- I found it at the very bottom in fact, wedged between some old textbooks, and it's just fascinating with how many of these are in Latin or Greek I mean nowadays you use simplified things, not even ritualistic anymore and-" Hermione stuttered to a stop, blushing and clearing her throat. "Anyways, that's really besides the point, but yes. Most of a spell depends on intent, not the words, although the words can benefit the spell depending on how... old they are? I've read that spells spoken in the ancient languages tend to be very powerful-" _Ha, theory proven,_ "-Celtic, Latin, Greek, even Hebrew or Ancient Chinese. This is supposed to be a powerful protection spell- if cast correctly and with enough power, it shadows the target with a magical shield that lies dormant until an attack. It lasts for about a week by Julian calendars, although it could have been longer or shorter for others. But don't you see? This is a perfect defense!" Hermione cried, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

It certainly was exciting, and Harry could see the others warming up the idea- and possibly to more ventures into the book; however, he could also see Draco shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

"You're forgetting one thing, Granger. We're all first-years. As powerful as we may be at journeyman's age, we won't have nearly enough magic for anything as powerful as that. Not only that, if we overextend ourselves, we run the risk of damaging our wells. I can't see you wanting to experiment at the cost of your magic." The blond boy said severely, pinning Hermione with a hard stare.

She was bewildered. "What- a well?" Draco pinched his nose, muttering something or the other about muggles that Harry didn't particularly care about at the moment. Well- he had heard that term before, hadn't he? From Ollivander first, and the Sorting Hat. Both of them had mentioned "a well like that" when trying to figure him out, in a way that had seemed far from good. Perhaps his well was... damaged? A shiver ran through him at the thought of something a part of his magic being- being defective, and he unconsciously leaned closer to Draco, a frown marring his face.

"_Wells_, Granger- and you Harry, I doubt Blaise has told you this, much less really knows- are the essence of your magic. Your _well _is the entirety of your magic, often shaping or affecting its complexity, depth, and growth. The deeper the well, the more magic at disposal. The more complex of one, the more powerful and intricate of spells can be cast. The more growth of one, the more of everything. It's often said the powerful and influential have deep, complex wells, and that people like Longbottom have ones that can hardly claim merit. Hardly able to cast a spell. Without a well of any kind, you're just a squib or a muggle. I guess it's better than not having a core- then you're just an imitation of some dementor's leftovers." He explained blandly, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. Hermione had a horrified expression on her face, and Harry wasn't better off. Theo and Pansy had queasy looks, and even Blaise looked shaken. To end up like the victim of a dementor- that was unthinkable. Dementors _destroyed _people, turned them into mindless husks that ate, slept, then _died_.

When a dementor captured you, the best thing your family could do was take mercy and end it quickly. The best hope was that it set souls at rest and let them successfully pass. The worst, it would let the family breathe easily without a reminder of their dead loved one lurching around.

"_Il mio Dio, _do you have to so morbid, Draco? I think we could all do without that thought in mind." Blaise muttered. The other boy simple rolled his eyes.

It seemed that after that, no one was up to going through the books, the threat of permanent damage hanging over their head with each spell found. They didn't last half an hour before the decision to leave was reluctantly breached and agreed on. They gathered whatever papers and quills- or pencils, in the cases of the only two muggle-raised- and trudged up to the front desk to sign out whatever books they had decided held merit. Harry could see that Hermione had kept the Latin book, but made no comment and didn't point it out to the others. He'd know if she did anything dangerous.

They walked the halls quietly, conversation sometimes chipping in over a painting or strange spell they had found. It had been decided when Hermione joined them weeks ago that when they were grouped outside of lunch or classes, they'd take her to the Ravenclaw Tower, and then scuttle down to the dungeons before anyone saw them and decided they were suspicious. This, admittedly, wasn't the greatest nor smartest arrangement, but no one had the courage to cross Harry when he had announced it with a decidedly... _sharp _look. This of course, could lead to them being found by upper-years, Filch, getting lost, and many other things considering how the castle seemed to enjoy random traps and turnabouts. But it also had its benefits, as the portraits nearing the Ravenclaw dormitories were infinitely more resourceful than those outside Slytherins'.

"I just don't see it to be wise to practice out on the grounds." Theo argued as they were walking, "Someone might think it's more than class practice, especially with some of the ones we dug up. I mean, I don't see a prefect looking at a group of first-years casting _deprimo _at random trees and rocks and going, 'Oh, what wonderful students, honing their skills.'"

"Well, where are we going to, the common rooms? Farley's going to throw a fit if we sneak Hermione in any more times,and I don't think even the Ravens will be pleased with a gaggle of Snakes in their common room." Harry replied, frowning. There weren't many places one could even _consider _practicing magic in the school, much less without restrictions. Classrooms were a no-go just on principle, and the hallways and courtyard were decided as Bad Ideas because of Filch and Snape's tendencies to skulk around them both, respectively, to catch students doing things "against the rules". Yes, like reading a book or hexing someone's hair blue was against school rules.

"Well, maybe-" Hermione started, before she was cut off by the polite clearing of a throat. Looking up and over, the firsties searched for whoever had done it. The only other person in the hallway was a large portrait of a stocky, soft-looking woman done in hues of brown and cream. She was dressed in clothes far too old to be even a century or two old, and had an elaborate plait in her hair. Smiling kindly down at them, and spoke.

"If you are looking for somewhere to practice magic, there is a certain place on the seventh floor. Cross the space in front of Barnabas the Barmy's painting three times with that thought in mind, and you will be provided such." The six of them blinked and traded glances uneasily. While the paintings of the castle could be helpful, everyone knew the story of Morrigan Tracy who had ended up teleported to the middle of the Black Lake due to a supposed banishing spell given by one of the paintings' inhabitants. The poor former Gryffindor had a high fever for a week afterward, and ended up avoiding the decorated hallways like the plague until graduation.

"...Thank you for the advice, ma'am, but we'll have to respectfully decline. I think we'll take the risk of our teachers." Harry carefully said with a grimace. Someone grunted in agreement behind him, but the woman simply inclined her head, still smiling.

"Alright then, young one. Just make sure to thank old Helga when you find it." Harry gave her an odd look, but ultimately decided that this was less important than getting Hermione to her dorms. They started walking again, just a few turns from the dormitories.

"Okay, that was sort of creepy." Pansy commented, rubbing her arm. The others nodded in agreement, but Harry and Hermione had expressions on their faces that only spelled trouble for everyone else.

"That certainly was but... what if she really meant to help? What if there is somewhere on the seventh floor we can practice?" Hermione murmured, brow furrowed in thought.

"It certainly would clear up problems, especially with hiding the notes and damage." Harry agreed, rubbing his chin and staring off into the distance.  
"Oh _no_. No, no, no, you two. We are not going off on some-some adventure just because you want to risk dropping into the lake or being cursed!" Draco exclaimed, backing away with his hands up. "I refuse! No!"

* * *

"I hate all of you." Draco grumbled from his place in front of Barnabas the Barmy's portrait. Blaise shushed him, while Hermione and Harry resolutely avoided looking in his direction due to the trolls in the painting.

Harry was examining the wall, poking and prodding it with his wand, which was occasionally sending off sparks. For all intents and purposes, the wall was the same grey with a layer of white as the rest of the castle, and acted like you would expect a wall to. Or not to, considering it was a lifeless wall. But it gave off a... feeling. It made Harry uneasy, in a way he hadn't felt since entering the Leaky Cauldron.

"So... I guess we should try what she told us? I mean, you've been poking it and it hasn't attacked or killed us, so it may not be dangerous." Pansy ventured nervously, wringing her hands off to the side. Her, Theo, and Blaise were watching with varied emotions as Hermione and him examined the wall, although Hermione was more of just staring bemusedly at Harry at this point.

"Her instructions may activate it for all we know, Parkinson." Draco said cooly, "And then we're doomed, seeing as the only one who might have a hint to where we are is the one who told us." Pansy eeped at that, and glared at him hotly.

"Well excuse me for trying to do more than _stand there_, Draco, like you!" She huffed, crossing her arms. Before Draco could break in with something that would most likely sting everyone present, Harry cleared his throat and began to walk back and forth. He made sure to keep in mind that they needed somewhere to do train as the woman- Helga, he supposed?- had said. On his third turn, he heard the others gasp, and turned to see that a large, wooden door had appeared where there had once been blank wall.

"_Doom_." Draco muttered, even as he and the rest of the group slowly approached the door, ready to bolt at the last second. Blaise was the one to reach the handles first, and he tugged them cautiously, opening them outward to reveal what was inside.

They could only stare in awe as the doors revealed a spacious room. The walls were a dark grey, and there were no windows in sight, but it was somehow as light as the corridor. There was an abundance of objects lining the edges, and the middle of the room had a clear space with what almost seemed to be an... arena, to be simple. To the far left, there were lines of targets and dummies, which Harry could guess were magic-resistant from their sheen. Soft, purple couches occupied the far left corner, and as they wandered in, Harry could also see that there were desks and bookshelves lining the rooms, scattered haphazardly. Peering at one of them, he could see it was covered with writing utensils ranging from quills to even markers, and had parchment neatly stacked next to them. Glancing at another, he could see bandages and various medical potions. Another had a whiteboard with a stick to prop it up. Another, weapons magical and mundane.

"Holy Merlin." Blaise breathed off somewhere in the room. Harry could hear him as though he were standing right next to him, and knew it wasn't just because of his super-ears. "This is heaven. These books- there's ones I've seen in the library, and I swear I have a copy of this at home- look, there's even a copy of _The Baudelaire Guide to Diversions, Escaping, and Generally Surviving- _do you know how hard it is to get a copy of this? They went out of print a decade ago!" Hermione sighed in what was probably exaltation.

"Guys, these dummies are- come look at this!" Theo called excitedly. Rushing over, Harry could see that there certainly was something to be excited over with them- each one wasn't a generic copy as he expected; rather, they were a menagerie of shapes and features. One had golden eyes painted on and comical wolf ears and a tail. Another had a long hooded cloak, and dark holes for facial features. Actually, looking at all of them, they all resembled a magical creature or specialised wizard of some sort. Some had come out very comical, such as the obvious potions master who had grenade-shaped potions flasks on its chest, while others were very close to the real thing, like the troll that had a place at the very end of the row.

Blaise slowly placed his hand on one covered in ivy in the corner of Harry's eye, only to snatch it back when the vines crawled up his arm and made to ensnare him. They watched with wide eyes as the vines crawled back onto the dummy.

"Well." Harry said in the silence, "I suppose we can do more than just practice magic in here, huh?"

* * *

It was only a small stretch before they hurried back to their previous task, safely delivering Hermione to the Ravenclaw entrance and then heading downstairs. They covered their ears as the riddle was said and as Hermione solved it, Harry and Theo waving to her as she disappeared behind the bust. They passed Helga's portrait again along the way, and Harry gave her a nod of thanks for her intervening. She returned with a beaming smile.

It was a stretch, reaching the common room before curfew, but they somehow managed, despite having to duck to avoid Ms. Norris, Filch's cat, and Professor Quirrell multiple times. They almost ran straight into the man at one point, but he thankfully veered off onto a moving stairway. Theo grimly noted after he disappeared that it was the one that led to the Corridor of Child Death. Harry felt a shiver go down his spine watching the man, and hurried them along quicker.

At only two minutes to 9, they rushed into the common room as the wall reappeared behind them, glancing around to make sure no one noticed. The common room was thankfully crowded that evening, and students were more focused on their conversations and games than a few kids that dropped in just minutes from being on the receiving end of Snape's wrath. Harry motioned for them to follow him down to the rooms as usual, where they propped open the door to Blaise, Harry, and Theo's room for some heat and gathered their bounty from the day.

"Okay, give me your notes I'll try and sort them- Theo, why did you write in pink ink?- Well I doubt someone's going to be inclined to go through my bag, considering the hexes and charms on it, Malfoy." Harry said, harrying **[HAHAHAHAHAHAH] **them to pass him the papers. Hermione had refused to give hers up before she went in, but Harry could at least hold fast to the belief that anyone who touched them would get a hand bitten off. Metaphorically...Maybe. Sorting through them, he quickly skimmed them for what wasn't said and organised them by bulk. Pansy's came first, with Blaise, Harry, Draco, and Theo following. That done, he gazed speculatively at their pile of books.

"You know, I just realised we never got the information from the others." He exclaimed, eyes widening.

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure Draco and Pansy can get the things." Blaise said soothingly, patting him on the back and arranging the books by spell type. Most of them were protection and hexes, although there were a few on healing and curses. Harry watched him stack them as Draco and Pansy rushed off (and had subsequent arguments with Moon, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were unwilling and empty-handed respectively).

"Your fingers are too long." Harry murmured. Blaise snorted at him.

"Pianist's fingers, Potter. wonderful for handling things."

The two retrievers eventually wandered back to the doorway, Pansy scowling and Draco with only a small scrap of parchment. With their pickings sorted into the pile, everything was now spick, and the only question left was where it would go.

"Definitely not in my room. Moon might try to shred the parchments out of spite." Pansy bit out, glaring at the closed door to her room. Moon must have heard her, because there was a loud bang on it, as though someone threw something at the door and hit it. Harry could only twitched at the behavior of his house-mates.  
"And I don't trust Crabbe and Goyle not to destroy anything, no matter how well-intentioned they may be." Draco added, grimacing. In fact, they all grimaced. They all remembered full-well what had happened when they just trusted Gregory with a book that Theo wanted to show Hermione. Somehow, in the course of 12 hours, it had gotten soaked, splattered with what could only be described as mystery meat, and dropped in a toilet. The poor thing didn't survive it, and Harry was forced to scarf up 5 galleons to pay Madame Pince for a replacement.

"So we just keep it all in our room!" Theo said, smiling. "It'll be easy to keep track of, since Harry's such a neat freak that he'd never let anything get lost in there." Both Harry and Blaise flinched at that, and Harry sent a not-so-subtle at the other boy, making him yelp and edge away. A quick glower killed any complaints the Nott might have had.

"If we're done here, let's head to bed. No need to make Snape eviscerate for dozing in class tomorrow." Harry said tiredly, feeling drained all of a sudden. Theo laughed, but they all slipped into their rooms and into the arms of Morpheus. Harry spent his night dreaming of large arms and a black dog running around him.

* * *

Harry was certainly right about one point of tomorrow. Snape was ready and gearing to tear someone a new one in class, criticising every little mistake or deviation from the required viscosity, colour, even how it smelled. It made Harry want to toss the "Aural Stabiliser" in his face. He had to resist the urge the third time the man approached his and Millicent's potion- who was for some reason paired with him today due to Snape's sudden love for assigned partners- and insisted that it was completely the wrong colour despite the fact that the two of them had followed the instructions to the letter, even improving it a bit with some of the adjustments Millicent suggested making in preparation.

Harry's eyes seemed to wander to the man constantly while they were waiting for parts of the potion to simmer or blend or whatever it called for. From what he had scrounged in a very roundabout and possibly unscrupulous way, Professor Snape and his father had been rivals in school. Well, more and less than that. It was more of a Harry-Dudley situation, which Harry could safely say was completely horrible. James Potter would bully Snape, stealing his things and hexing or pranking him in ways that couldn't be called more than dirty and cruel. Snape hardly retaliating for six years straight. It made his stomach _turn_. He didn't even want to think of how much begging it had taken to get McGonagall to even tell him why Snape treated him like dirt, much less how her face _twisted _when she spoke of James Potter. If the woman couldn't abide by what one of her lions had done, one of her little favourites, then the situation had to be infinitely worse than what she had spelled out. And that made Harry... guilty. If only because he was the legacy of a horrible man that acted no better than the muggle child Harry had been forced to endure for 11 years. If only because he was so deeply hated by Snape that the man couldn't even treat a dead man's orphan decently after 14 years.

It made him sick, and angry, and he couldn't even tell at who.

By the end of the class, all the Gryffindors were near growling, and even the Slytherins were ready to toss something. But as they were about to bottle their potions and set them on the acrimonious man's desk, he stopped the class from moving with a particularly nasty smile.

"Today, I have decided to allow a selected number of you to test your potions beforehand. We will be able to see if you have properly listened, or if your craniums are so thick you cannot brew a simple draft. If brewed correctly, you should be able to see the external projection of another's magic, or their aura. If not, well..." He trailed off here, his smile turning into a smirk. A few students gulped, and Harry resignedly heard Neville whimper across the room. It seems no matter how much he did, that boy would still be afraid of the Bat of the Dungeons. Speaking of him, Harry knew there was no shot in hell that he wouldn't be picked to test, because Snape was just that spiteful and didn't seem to like the idea of looking past parentage even though he _knew _from stories and pictures that he was nothing like-

"-Malfoy, Zabini, Patil, and Brown to test their potions. Potter! Will you pay attention for once? You and Bulstrode test yours. We can see just how much of a blunder you did." Harry internally groaned, but was silent as he and Millicent scooped up some of their potion in a flask and downed it. He could feel the unpleasant feeling of something cold slithering down into his stomach, and grimaced at the feeling. Millicent seemed to be experiencing the same, if her expression was any indicator. But, as he gazed around at his other students, he couldn't see any difference, any change of them. They still had the same features, the clothes, the same glo-... _Oh._

_ That's not good._

Harry paled even as the test students and Millicent looked around in awe and at herself and at Harry, amazed at the colours _she _had never been able to see.

"Oh! I'm... turquoise? You're a lovely green, Harry. Harry?" She leaned closer to him, peering close with a worried frown and silently asking _Are you okay? _in the way that the Snakes had learned early on when something serious came up in front of others. He instantly put a smile on his face and waved her off.

"Ah, it's nothing, just a bit surprising." _I'm completely out of my depth and sort of terrified. Do you know that feeling?_ "Is that satisfactory, Professor Snape?" Harry asked, turning towards the man who was watching them with a sharp eye. Snape sneered in answer.

"I am afraid not Potter- what shade am I?"

"A very deep red, sir, with a splotch on your arm." Harry replied, simultaneously reveling and feeling guilt when the older man flickered with shock before setting on a blank mask.

"I assume that is what all of you see?" He said tersely, scrutinizing each of them who had taken the potion. The rest of them hurriedly nodded, some of them staring curiously at his arms for whatever Harry was seeing and some of them looking ready to shit their pants. Snape nodded once, and spun towards his desk, taking to his seat in a way most of the Slytherins could identify as quietly furious. Harry could see Daphne wincing in the corner of his eye, and sympathized with the small girl; out of the Slytherins, she was the one most nervous around Snape, if only for his manner. Luckily, she handled it better than Neville.

"Turn in samples of your potions for grading." Snape said, sending the class into a flurry. People rushed to put the flasks on his desk, thankful for the distraction. Harry was just thankful the flasks had an unbreakable charm on them. The class bell rang soon after, and people were gearing up and in the process of hightailing it out of there. But Harry hung back, uncertain about what he was going to do and not enjoying the thought of it all. When Blaise saw that he wasn't coming with them, he sent him a questioning look, but Harry just gave him a tense shake of his head and motioned for him to go. The young Zabini frowned, but followed the order nonetheless. He could tell this was important.

Once the class was emptied of everyone but Harry and Snape, he slowly walked up to the Potions Master's desk, careful not to startle him with his steps. When the man finally looked up, a deep scowl was marring his face and he looked about as happy as a cat in a closet at the sight of Harry.

"What do you want, Potter? Why aren't you off gallivanting with your little friends, ready to create another commotion in the Great Hall?" He barked out, his eyes like cold coals. Harry flinched at the tone, but braced himself, telling himself _No, I have to stay and solve this. End the conflict._

"I-" Harry swallowed, stuttering, "I wanted to apologise sir." Snape had somehow adopted an even angrier face, and looked like he just might be capable of breathing fire if he tried hard enough, but Harry made sure to rush forward before he could do anything. "For my father, sir. I don't know all of what he did, and I doubt I will, but I know enough to know it was unforgivable. For him to act like- like some superior person and to do cruel things without reason because he thinks it's _fun_, or _right_. And I know he wouldn't have apologised, and can't now, so I'm doing it in his stead. And I'm _sorry_, Professor, for whatever he did for you, I truly am. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But I am not him. He died two years before my first memory, five years before I even knew his name. I am not him." Harry breathed out at the end, letting loose a breath he didn't know he was holding in. Snape was looking at him with a purely stunned expression, silent. Harry wondered for a moment if he was breathing, and dismissed the thought as stupid. When the silence stretched on for far too long than Harry was comfortable, Harry sighed and hiked his satchel higher onto his shoulder, and turned to walk out. As he reached the doorway, he turned back and added,

"And I'm sorry for mentioning the blotch, sir. I don't know what it is, or what it means, but I didn't mean to reveal something you didn't want known." before slipping out completely.

* * *

When he sat down at the Slytherin table between Blaise and Neville, who had been persuaded into joining them that evening, he felt lighter. It wasn't some oh-I-feel-so-at-peace-now feeling, but it was enough to calm him down, and coax a smile out of him.

"What did you need to talk to Snape about?" Blaise asked, passing him a vegetable roll. Harry took it, and shrugged as he took a bite out of it.

"Needed to discuss the problem with the Gryffindors. I don't want it escalating, you know?" Blaise grimaced, but understood. For the past two weeks or so, the upper-year Gryffindors had taken to taunting- and laying some mean-spirited pranks, in some cases- the younger Slytherins. It was mostly the second-years, but they had also started focusing on Harry's little Group o' Misfits. In all honesty, he had threatened them with painful, potion-caused bodily harm the second time one of them ended up with orange boils and pink hair. They had backed down when his wand started sparking and smoking in his hand.

"Honestly, I don't know why you didn't just go ahead and report them." Hermione huffed across from Harry, dissecting a chicken leg with her fork and knife. He gave her a blank stare.

"Hermione, the first time it happened, I reported it to McGonagall. Everyone knows they got a week's worth of detention. And it didn't do anything." She rolled her eyes in exasperation, but didn't argue further. That girl's faith in authority was more deeply rooted than her teeth, Harry thought sometimes.

Conversation passed quite easily around the table for once, no one arguing and only a few glares sent to each other; they were mostly from Moon or some upper-year who didn't want them to cause another food-fight. Theo mentioned the upcoming game between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, which some people cheered over and some groaned over. It was perfectly nice, until Theo seemed to realise it was a week from Yule holidays.

"Hey hey hey guys, so who's are we having it at this year?" He blurted out suddenly, interrupting a discussion over the merits of magic-adapted electricity. Harry, Hermione, and Neville blinked at him in confusion, while the others Slytherins face-palmed or gave out lengthy sighs.

"I told you, Nott, it's going to be at the Manor this time. When are you going to listen to me for once?" Draco said irritably.

"Never!" Theo replied sunnily, giving a purely spiteful smile. Harry felt the need to cut in before anyone started pulling out hair or throwing baked potatoes.

"Uh, what's _it_?" He hesitantly asked, twitching when everyone turned to him.

"Oh yeah, you've never been since you're first generation." Blaise said, staring at him. Harry gave him a clear look that said _THAT DOESN'T HELP IS THIS SOME SACRIFICE OR SOMETHING SHOULD I BE WORRIED _but Blaise ignored it in favour of jabbing Draco with a pointed expression.

"Will you- don't _do _that!" Draco yelled, smacking the other boy's hand away and rubbing the targeted spot. "Essentially, one of our families holds a ball each year for the Family on the day before Christmas and we all attend. Sometimes, the children all just stay at the house until the ball and leave for their houses afterwards." He explained. "This year, it's at my house."

"I sense a capital in there," Harry asked with a raised brow. Draco shrugged.

"When you get sorted, you're part of the family. Since you're a Slytherin, you're already invited." Harry's mind seemed to stutter to a stop for a moment, before restarting and allowing him to act like a normal human being.

"I-I wouldn't be able to go." He muttered, hearing the noises of surprise and upset around him.

"Why not?" Theo exclaimed, "I'm sure you'd be able to at least pop in for the ball!" Harry felt his face go blank, and let it. He really did not want to discuss this now. At all. Or ever, really.

"My family wouldn't let me." He said shortly, "And I'm staying at Hogwarts, anyways. I wouldn't be able to pop out and pop back into the school. I thought you had seen that I hadn't signed up to leave." Theo had a dismayed expression at such an admission, and and was about to say something before Blaise glared at him from his place, face drawn into fierce lines. That shut him up as quick as a zipper, but didn't stop him from signalling the others. _Do you know what he's talking about? _

There were only negatives, and a resounding suspicion now floating around as they watched Blaise nag Harry about him picking at his food. As much as Blaise was a sour ninny sometimes, it was usually Harry or Hermione who gave people the orders, told them to be quiet, told them to cast this or that. Hermione had a knowing look on her face, hidden in her soup. Neville seemed very intent on denying, well, _something _it seemed, and had started fumbling through his bag.

"Just what is your family like, Harry? You never really talk about them." Millicent put forward cautiously. He shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face.

"They're okay. A bit annoying at times, and a bit close-minded, but you get used to it. They don't very much like me hopping around random places though, so they wouldn't want me going out during the hols."

"That doesn't explain why you're staying here."

Harry gave her a cynical smile. "Sorry, I'd rather be somewhere that doesn't have me waking up at ridiculous times for things that don't matter two days later." _Or has me working to the bone with no food, _he added in his mind. The sadly honest thing was that he was hardly lying. He was just withholding some facts. Sure, it could be said the Dursleys were close-minded. They despised magic, and Harry had heard Vernon go off multiple times whenever pride parades or rights adverts came on the news. They just hated it more than you would think, wanting to try and beat it out than ignore it. Sure, they didn't like him being somewhere they didn't know. But they were too scared to force him to stay in the house before dark. And sure, they had him wake up at ridiculous times for things that didn't matter a few days later. He just didn't mention that he had to get up at dawn for labour and cooking.

"..Like I said Potter, sometimes the other children stay over for the holidays. You could always come home with me." Draco started slowly, with his eyes narrowed at the two of them. Blaise turned his glare to the Malfoy, but it didn't have any effect, as the other boy just tilted his head in challenge. _Just what is going on here? _But Harry wasn't focused, or even noticing any of that, and was instead considering what Draco had said.

"Malfoy, you do know it's going to be difficult, yeah? I mean, we don't exactly get along, and I doubt your parents would want me in your house. I'd rather not be a burden." Draco gave him a disbelieving stare, and then shook his head with a sigh.

"Potter, my family is one of the richest in the country. You couldn't be a burden even if you ate all of our food and shredded every piece of furniture you see. Although, if you do that, I'm going to tear _you _to shreds. And my mother always said family should stick together."

"Yes, you and your Slytherin family, that's wonderful." Harry muttered with a touch of bitterness. The thought of them all sticking together like glue made him just a bit sour on the inside, considering he couldn't even get blood family to treat him like a human.

"No, blood family, Potter. My mother's maiden name is Black, and your grandmother was Dorea Black. We have updating family trees ending with our generation right now, and you're on it." Harry stared blankly at him as his mind processed that, before it finally catched up and his eyes widened and he immediately went into panic mode.  
"You- wh- _no_. _No_, you can't be serious... If you're- then-" Blaise clapped him on the back, trying to get him to calm down, but it just seemed to compound his panic, and the others could hear his breathing speeding up to what was decidedly not healthy.

"Guys, we have to get him out of here, _now_." Blaise whispered, grabbing Harry's arm, and smiling at the prefect who was now eyeing them and most likely considering the idea of stalking over and seeing what the hell was going on. Blaise dragged Harry up and motioned Neville to grab his other arm. Draco, Hermione, Theo, and Pansy soon followed, giving anyone who stared a withering glance. When they made it out of the Great Hall, they tumbled into an empty classroom, where Harry was quickly sat onto a desk with the others crowding. Blaise hissed at them to back off when they got too close, and they were forced to watch as the Italian boy attempted to calm down their classmate, who was most definitely hyperventilating now and didn't appear to see any of them. Blaise was getting desperate, Harry not even responding, when he heard a small fumble of movement and had someone stick something over his shoulder. Glancing, he could see it was Longbottom, who was holding out a small flask full of... something. Taking a leap of faith, he grabbed it and coaxed it down his throat, breathing a sigh of relief when the other boy's breathing slowly calmed down.

"Longbottom, what was in that?" He whispered.

"Calming draught. My Gran has them specially made since I.. I have lots of problems." The timid boy whispered back, refusing to meet Blaise's eyes. It made him sigh again, this time at the hopelessness at their group, but he focused his attention on Harry, finally coherent enough to talk. Harry stared at them, nearly begging with his eyes to not talk about it, to not ask, but their worried, stubborn expressions didn't fade.

"Potter," Draco, said, uncharacteristically soft, "What was that?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth, desperate, helpless, coming up with nothing. "...Dumbledore stuck me with my Aunt and Uncle because they're blood relations." He finally said in a small, weak voice. Hermione gave out a noise of pain, and Blaise put his face in his hands.

* * *

The prefects pulled them aside when they entered the common room half an hour later; the seven of them had completely forgone going back to dinner and simply slumped down onto the plush couches of Slytherin. Pansy, Draco, and Theo had tried to overload Harry with questions, but they were shut down by a furious Hermione and eerily calm Blaise. Neville had taken a spot next to Harry and was discussing the paintings in the common room, giving the Potter heir something to focus on rather than the toss-up that was that evening.

"Everyone says he's Slytherin, and I guess they can be right. I just wish he wouldn't stare so much." Harry whispered to Neville. The pudgy boy nodded in agreement, giving the portrait a slightly fearful eye. The Man in the Painting had decided his activity for the evening was going to be watching them, and had yet to look away from them.  
"He's a bit scary. But I suppose they all are. I've heard rumours that the Founders hid their portraits around the school, and since no one really knows what they look like, they completely blend in." Harry hummed.

"We met a woman yesterday, who called herself Helga and gave us some advice. She really was kind, compared to the other portraits."

But when the prefects and everyone else had slowly filtered in from dinner, they had instantly strode over and mobbed the group, dragging them into the hallway down the stairs. Farley had a grim expression, but Albret still had his characteristic air of apathy. Not even the glint in his eyes could dispel it.

"Alright," Farley started, "One of you, I don't particularly care, is going to explain. You're going to explain well, and then you're going to explain _why the whole school saw you_ going against one of the Snake guidelines. I don't care that the Chick or the Cub are here. Just tell me."

"Harry just found out a relative died." Theo helpfully- or maybe unhelpfully?- supplied, "He didn't take it well." Farley gave him a flat stare, unimpressed.

"It was the middle of dinner. And I know not one of you received letters."  
"It didn't really sink in until then." Harry broke in, grimacing. "I didn't really.. believe it, and I didn't want to. They were... close." Farley narrowed her eyes, and peered hard at him and the others. But everyone had remnants of worry or regret on their faces, even if it was for things not actually said. Even if it was for things not done. Farley eventually relented, pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering under her breath.

"Listen, Potter. The next time something like this happens, don't come to dinner. Snape will understand, and we don't need to be making scenes like it's a damn play." She growled. She made to leave, before stopping and awkwardly shuffling. "I'm... sorry for your loss, Potter. A lot of us know how it is to lose someone." With that, she turned and left, leaving them to shake in their boots for that near hit-and-KO.

"Harry, it's horrible you can, but thank Merlin you've got perfect acting skills." Blaise said as the prefects left their sight. "And good job with the improvising, Theo- I don't think I've ever been more thankful for that." They murmured their agreement, drained and tired.

* * *

Hi guys! Like I said, Saturday! This chapter veers off what Ive been doing because wow, I actually had this part fuckin planned before I started writing. So, next time, Christmas! And fans being dirtied! Ha.

Reviews that I missed because my mail is shit and new ones!

**Deathday Party Planner - LONG REPLY DEAR AMICUS! **Ha, holy shit thanks for reviewing so much quq The abuse, which was made more clear, is still horrible. Ive read fics that take it way tooooooo far, and I almost took it in that direction, but I can say that people are very willing to hurt children. I wouldn't say mutilate unless theyre like the mother from fuckin A Child Called It, but it can go bad... The troll man, the troll. I really didn't want Harry charging in there because that didn't seem his style for the story yknow? I wanted him to covertly do that shit, let the knock out sneak over and pow at the last minute. And with the physical stuff, I was a fucking idiot. I'm gonna admit that whole-heartedly, but Ive hopefully written him as more believable, or at the very least better than he has been with _that _point of character. With the stuff with Snape, Ive sort of winged that because on one hand, the man despises Harry and seemingly everyone on Earth besides his best friend Vodka, and on the other hand the man is the one who told them to never go out alone. Hm. I take it as more of a heat of the moment thing, you know? They're kinda stupid kids who just had their friend almost die. And about Harry's possible magic high, that's actually a technical magic thing that I have written out! It will be explained ouo. The Slytherins I most definitely tried to display as tight-knit, although I didn't realise it was tighter than the canon G's. It's better though isnt it, to not have to worry about the people you sleep in the same room turning on you though?

**secretstories - **Thanks! I really tried to give Blaise and them personalities bigger than "giant prejudiced assholes".

**Kalm1234 - **I'm 8 (9?) chapters in. Shut it and keep your ass opinion to yourself.

**Vladimir Mithrander - **Haha, do not worry, I am back!

**dianaanne - **thank you for waiting amicus!

**vicocen - **Thank you for such nice words! I'm definitely not abandoning this, not after eight chapters, at least not until I finish the first year.

**Vivianne95 - **^u^

**Valantherial - **Haha omg thank you ouo The PLAN test was bad, with someone sneezing or throwing up a cup of bile during it, but its done! Yayyyy


	11. In Which Things do and don't Explode

JESUS FUCKING BLUE _BRICK _WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG- REVIEWS AND STUFF AT BOTTOM AS USUAL THIS WANST EDITED DUE TO TIME NYERR

* * *

Harry gleefully watched as the others raced around the magically-conjured track, panting and sweating and glaring at him and Blaise.

"P-Potter!" Draco huffed out, pausing in his mad dash to beat Theo, "Why in the name of Merlin are we doing this? This isn't even related to magic!"

"It's to build up stamina," Blaise replied, "Which you need in duels and casting. Honestly, if you English wizards looked past your own noses, you'd know about all the studies proving physical health correlates with magical ability." The Italian boy was curled up next to Harry, reading from a random book and occasionally glancing at a stopwatch at his side. Harry himself was reading a book he had pulled from the various shelves, _The Baudelaire Guide to Diversions, Escaping, and Generally Surviving. _The chapter he was on now detailed how to optimally make use of the resources around you, no matter how small.

"Well then why doesn't POTTER have to do it!? He's the smallest of us!" The blond yelled, throwing up his hands. Blaise let out an aggravated sigh, but Harry patted him on the arm before he could say anything too poisonous to the other boy.

"I've been exercising for years, Mal-Draco. Push-ups, jogging, you know. By now, I can run a mile in 12 minutes." Draco sent him another glare, but Theo raced past him cackling like a maniac, making him ultimately decide to bug them about it later and beat Theo to 10 laps first.

Hermione was the closest to being done, most likely due to the physical education classes every poor muggle-raised child goes through. She was on her ninth lap, and looked ready to give it up and just sit down. Pansy was on her sixth, while Theo and Draco were going through their seventh.

Harry honestly hadn't expected Blaise to suggest this last night, or for the "Needs Room", as they called it, to even supply it. But he had paced back and forth, and when they opened the doors, there was a huge race-track instead of a dueling arena. They were lucky they had the forethought to bring a change of clothes, only wearing their civilian ones at the moment- not that slacks and button-ups really helped when you were running, though. Blaise had shoved the four of them on there with a nasty grin on his face, saying whoever got to their tenth lap first would get something. Harry didn't know what, but he suspected the acid pops he had in his pocket had something to do with it. If he gave them to Hermione without telling her what they did, he'd rip him a new one.

"You know, you really would expect them to be in better shape." Blaised murmured disapprovingly next to him, watching Pansy bend down to catch her breath. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, no one really needs to keep their little heirs in top shape- don't most purebloods just go into politics anyways? I mean your mama was a one-off thing, to be honest. Thinking things through." Blaise grunted, and started to rise when Hermione jogged over to them, a triumphant expression on her face despite the sweat. He let her take his seat, simply moving to the other side as she flopped down. Harry covertly commanded _scurrilum supero_, smiling when Hermione sighed in relief and the sweat and smell disappeared from her. It seemed that Latin really was useful.

"I don't know which one of you did that, and I don't care, but thank you." She declared, stretching her arms. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to the track, watching as Theo and Draco yelled at each other, trying to nudge each other off-kilter.

"You know, I wonder if the room can create obstacles." He said thoughtfully. When the room helpfully supplied hurdles and random bumps on their tracks, all of them laughed as Draco went down screeching.

* * *

"How am I going to explain these bruises to my mother?" Draco grumbled, packing his bag a few nights later, "She'll think we're being attacked or something." Theo helpfully threw one of his shirts to him, snickering when it hit the other boy straight in the face. Harry could only sigh at their antics as Draco started on another one of his screeching tirades.

They were all packing for the trip to the station in two days, beginning the Yule holidays. Draco was the only one left, as Theo, Harry, and Blaise had finished theirs hours ago (if only because Harry wouldn't stop badgering them to be prepared). Harry could say with a great certainty that he was terrified out of his wits, even if he didn't show it.

After the horrible evening involving Harry's meltdown and Farley questioning them and the probing questions later on in the dead of the night, he'd felt off about absolutely all of this. The fact that _anyone _outside of the Zabinis and Mr. Smith knew made him feel tight inside, scared of what might happen. He knew damn well his life would be better without the Dursleys in any part of it, but afterwards... He knew he would never be able to stand the ensuing looks of pity or doubt or even resentment and amusement, because he just knew that everyone was going to _have _to have an opinion on the whole thing. He'd knew that the news would be liable to go insane, throwing out prospects and rumours and all sorts of tripe about the _poor, poor boy-who-lived_ who couldn't defend himself from a _widdle muggle_. He wouldn't take the questions chasing after the things he'd try to forget for four months.

He wouldn't take the looks of his peers once they knew the whole truth.

A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him and nearly making him lash out before he realised it was just Blaise. The taller boy gave him a concerned look, but Harry waved it off with a jerk of his head. He turned back to their two idiots.

"M-Draco, your suitcase is about to fall off the bed." He called, interrupting an insult about Theo's charms. He personally agreed with Malfoy- _because dear lord no one needs to have something like that Scourgify happen again- _but it wouldn't be quite good to have a fight break out in a room with so many breakable things in it. Draco whipped around in time to see it topple onto the floor, tugging at his hair in distress as everything fell together in a messy heap.

"NO! IT TOOK ME AN HOUR TO PACK EVERYTHING THAT TIGHTLY!" He yelled in despair. Harry sighed again, and waved his wand. The suitcase and brick-a-brack neatly flew onto the bed, everything piling into the suitcase within seconds. The three boys blinked, and glanced over to Harry. He only raised a brow.

"Draco, is everything alright? We could hear your screeching from upstairs." Pansy said, popping her head into the doorway. The Malfoy heir turned a bright shade of red, and looked ready to start at it again.

"Packing difficulties," Harry cut in smoothly, waving vaguely towards the bed. "It's solved now. Do you four have your things sorted? All of us but Gregory and Vincent do, but I'm starting to think not to bother with their things until tomorrow." Pansy smirked at that and nodded.

"Yeah, it's never a good idea to try and get them to pack early. I think the last time we did, one of them ended up accidentally packing his wand in too." She left, leaving the four boys alone in the spacious room.

"...Potter. Was that wordless magic?" Draco asked, putting his suitcase on the floor by the sounds of it. Harry waved his hand again, making a noise that neither agreed or denied. "Potter."

"I guess? does it matter?" He bit out, pulling his hair out of its tie.

"Wordless or wandless magic is generally only done by very powerful or very high mental discipline, Harry." Theo said carefully; the Nott had a giddy gleam in his eye, as though he'd just found the a lost piece of a damned 500-piece puzzle. "Do you have high mental discipline, Harry?" Harry gave him a helpless shrug. What was he supposed to say? "Oh, this is normal, I just forgot to say an incantation because you all were annoying the piss out of me."

"I suppose to deal with you all day in and day out, I need to. Maybe the repression of my aggravation has gone so far that my magic is reacting." He sarcastically replied instead. It made Blaise snort, and Draco whine about not being annoying. He near slumped in relief when they turned from him to argue over their levels of annoyance. But Theo was still staring at him, that gleam in his eyes and a small smirk on his face.

"Good play, Harry. I'm afraid you can't brush me off so easily though. Don't be worried- I won't go spilling anything. In fact, you might have just helped yourself." He whispered. Harry gave him an uneasy glower, but the other boy only chuckled. With that said, he left the room to go bother one of the girls. Harry stared after him, his thoughts roiling.

* * *

The next two days passed uneventfully, and soon it was the morning of their departure, and many students were practically vibrating in their seats in excitement. Homesick first-years were chattering to each other, relieved fifth and sixth years were moaning about their joy at getting a break from work, and those staying at the castle were glaring at them for stirring up uproars at 9 in the morning. Harry's band of misfits was all here today, with Neville in front of him and Hermione beside him. Blaise had immediately claimed the space to his left, thankfully putting a buffer between him and Draco. Both Blaise and Hermione had taken to poking him whenever he stopped shoving what was on his plate into his mouth; he would have begged Neville for help, but the timid boy was the one who had loaded his plate. It was endearing, if not completely annoying and overbearing.

The topic of the morning seemed to be the ball at Malfoy Manor that was coming up, and other ones that had gone down notoriously.

"Well it's not my fault none of you could eat," Blaise was huffing out, "It's tradition to eat on recliners in Italy, and if you don't follow it you're basically knocking yourself down to peasant status."

"Magical Italy has peasants?" Hermione asked, horrified.

"Peasants, poor people, whatever you want to call them. Most of the standing families in Italy follow the old patrician traditions, so if someone doesn't they're seen as such." He replied, waving his fork around. "My own family still has a lararium, even if my mother doesn't believe in the house god anymore."

"You could have told us!" Pansy said, "A heads up would at least have been nice- 'Hey, lie down and use your right hand or get banned from _all the food there!_" Blaise rolled his eyes at her and didn't reply. Harry thoughtfully scratched his chin.

"So," He started, "Magical Italy kept all the weird old stuff like magical Britain? Except hopefully less backwards?" He thought about the pointed hats and robes and shuddered.

"How are we backwards?" Someone muttered, which was promptly ignored.

"Oh, very modern," Blaise promised, "Wizards and witches in Italy, especially in cities such as Roma and Napoli, try to keep up with the times. We use regular paper and electricity, and I've even heard of some people getting those televisions, or tolovisions or whatever they're called. Most people, if they're going for formal or staying somewhere deeply magical, wear suits or slacks and suspenders with cloaks, though I've heard of some of the really old geezers going as far as wearing togas and stolas*****." Hermione's eyes shined at that, and she launched into a flow of questions the Zabini heir could only hope to answer. Harry chose to let the sound fade into the background, and absently gazed around the halls.

There were the Weasley twins, plotting something no doubt annoying and destructive again. They'd better pray none of the Snakes or his misfits were caught in the crossfire. Cedric Diggory was sitting at the Hufflepuff table surrounded by girls- if Harry remembered right, he had just won the last game of the semester against the Gryffins. _Good for him_, he thought as the prefect smile sheepishly. Ron was near him, not really talking or eating. Going by the expression on his face, it seemed he either didn't want to go home, or was stuck here the whole break. The Ravenclaw firstie girls were laughing to themselves, and glancing in their direction. Harry narrowed his eyes, and when they glanced over again, silently charmed their hair into purple dreads. Their screams of outrage were music to his ears, and when Professor McGonagall instantly blamed the Weasleys and gave them a week's worth of detention when they got back, he may have giggled. Just a bit.

The Staff Table was a whole different story. Quirrell looked ready to cry in happiness, although Snape had that air around him that he'd probably try to make him cry for another reason. Or make anyone cry, really. Had the man tried anger management? McGonagall was hissing at Dumbledore for some reason or another, and Sprout was in some avid discussion with Flitwick. Even Hagrid and the batty woman with the glasses were involved, talking with the Astronomy teacher about something or the other. Everyone seemed more lively today, in one way or another.

Ah, the power of hundreds of brats vacating a castle.

"-Arry! Fratello*****, when are you ever going to pay attention?" Blaise suddenly said, squeezing Harry's arm. He confusedly blinked and turned to the other boy, raising a brow. Blaise silently gestured to the Staff Table, to where Snape had started spontaneously glaring at _them_.

"I-why is he even glaring at us? Vincent, Crabbe, did you get food on your robes again?" The two boys shook their heads in negative, quickly glancing at each other as if to reassure themselves. "Malfoy? Pansy? Someone shooting off spells because they can't reign in their fangs?" Another negative came, making them even more confused.

"Maybe he's constipated or something." Theo suggested. Harry snorted at that, and adult-worshipping Hermione even giggled.

"N-no, I doubt that, Theo. You also probably don't want to say that when we're so close to the Staff Table. One of them could hear you." The mousy boy blanched at the thought, and hurriedly turned his face down, acting as if he had been gobbling down his disgusting ketchup-slathered pancakes the whole time. They all quietly thought of possible reasons, glancing at each other and checking their robes and faces. Snape was known for chewing someone out for not being prim and proper at meals- which is why they had immediately checked Vincent and Gregory. The poor boys were always targets, as their table manners were probably worse than a gumiho's.

"Mr. Potter." A voice suddenly spoke behind them, making Harry shriek and dig his fork into the table. The group silently stared at it for a few seconds before twisting to see Professor Snape, who was staring down at the new holes as if they were the cause of evil and a drop in his paycheck themselves.

"Uh, y-yes sir?" He said, trying to tug the fork out of the table and cursing his reflexes. It finally popped out, and he set it on his plate. Snape passively watched, his expression and gl-_aura-_ giving away nothing.

"I would like to speak to you before you board the train. Please come to my office before noon." The dark man said before stalking off with a flare of his cloak. Harry watched as the last of him disappeared into the shadow of the hallway.

"...Draco. Malfoy. Whatever. He wouldn't trap a student would he? Those rosy cheeks don't really give anything away." He murmured, nudging the other boy to get his attention.

"He does have _morals_, you know. And a sense of decency." The boy responded dryly, pushing away the offending foot. "At most, he'll lower your self-esteem or give you nightmares."

"How is that reassuring in any way?" Hermione demanded before Harry himself could get a word in edgewise. "We still don't know if it was him or Quirrell cursing Harry's broom during the Quidditch match. For all we know, he could be walking to his doom."

"Oh, look at this, Granger growing a backbone," Draco sneered, "Believe me, woman, that man is more likely to hurt himself before he truly hurts a student. No matter how he acts, he _does _care about keeping all of us safe." Hermione flushed, but Harry batted her leg before she could say anything more. She deflated and sighed, shooting a glare at Draco and maybe even a piece of toast.

Which started _another _food fight.

* * *

Well. Here he was. Standing in front of Snape's office and shifting from foot to foot like a buffoon while debating knocking. Should he really do this? The man hadn't exactly been Mr. Sugar and Spice for the past few months, even with Harry offering an olive branch. And there was the Broom Incident of course, but no one was actually certain who was at fault for that. Harry was pretty sure he didn't _want _to know, since that would mean him knowing which teacher felt the need to end his little child life.

Before he could make a decision to knock or run, a voice called from within.

"Potter, will you just come in here?" Professor Snape irately called. Harry hurriedly pulled the handle and toddled in, observing the room. He had never personally been in here, although many a student had spread rumours of it being a torture room, or full of dead animals in jars, or even a BDSM haven, whatever that meant. When he had asked Flint, the older boy had spluttered and muttered about hexing someone for ruining a firstie's ears.

But it was far from any of that; the room had been done in warm, earthy tones, and was full of light. The fireplace to the side of it was lit and crackling brightly, and it even had a painting hanging over it. It was of a brunet man with bountiful curls and beard, who had a sword and wine cup by hand. When Harry entered, he grinned mischievously at the boy, and said something. Harry couldn't hear it, most likely because of a spell if the magic around the painting was anything to go by. Snape was watching him look around, an odd expression in his eyes.

"What did you want to speak to me about, sir?" Harry asked, fidgeting in the spot he had stopped at. Snape sighed, and gestured for him to sit in the chair set in front of the man's desk. He did so, awkwardly trying to appear as though he were comfortable with this. He failed spectacularly.

"Mr. Potter..." Professor Snape started, before shaking his head and going back. "Harry. I wished to speak about your... declaration earlier this month." Harry winced, and raised his hands up in supplication.

"I-I'm sorry sir, I know I overstepped my bounds by saying so-" Professor Snape cut him off with a jerk of his hand, frustrated.

"That is not the problem, Harry. The problem is that you felt the need to do so... Where did you learn of such things? Harry winced again.

"Uh... I sorta interrogatedProfessorMcGonagallandHagridbecauseyoufreakedmeout." He rushed, blushing to no end. Snape raised an impressed brow once he deciphered what the boy had said.

"And just how did you manage that?" He asked.  
"Well... Hagrid's really easy to get information out of if you lead him into it and don't tell him." Harry said sheepishly, "And Professor McGonagall really liked my parents apparently, so I just played up the 'Hapless Scared Orphan' act." Snape snorted- _Professor Snape snorting, dear lord someone get a sound bite- _and leaned back, putting a hand over his eyes.

"Of course Minnie would fall for that..." He muttered. "I 'freaked you out', Harry?"

He hesitantly nodded his head. Snape grunted, and a silence fell over them. Since Harry wasn't up to talking, he let his eyes wander back to the man in the painting. Peering closer at his painting, he could tell it was old. The paints were in odd colours, as though they had used something rougher and darker than what's usually mixed, and the edges of it were frayed. The man himself was dressed in strange clothing, which Harry would have sworn were leggings and a tunic. He had a large face and nose, and his beard reached down to his collarbone. When he saw Harry's attention on him, he cheerfully grinned and waved, dancing a little when the small Snake waved back. He excitedly said something, but Harry still couldn't hear him, and gestured towards his ear in a helpless sort of way. The man frowned, and started to tap at his frame. Harry could only watch bemusedly until Snape caught his focus again.

"James Potter was an atrocity of a man." He suddenly said, startling Harry. "He targeted younger students and other Houses for his entertainment, and thought himself in the right, even when it went so far that one almost died." Professor Snape's voice went acidic at the end, and Harry felt there was a story behind that, but he was currently too enthralled to interrupt the man and sentence himself to multiple detentions. "When we graduated, it was a welcome relief to be out of his presence constantly.

Lily Evans... was a kind woman." He went on, stunning Harry. "She was brave, smart, compassionate. Despite her hag of a sister. She did not put any faith towards the House rivalries, and would stand up to anyone if it meant protecting another. You are the son of both of them, and somehow I ignored that in favor of focusing on you being the spawn of Potter. I apologise for that, Harry." Snape glanced down at him, eyes serious. Harry was pretty sure he was gaping at this point.

"You... you knew my mother?" He asked. A pained expression flickered on Snape's face, but it passed quickly as it came.

"Indeed. She... her family lived on the same street. We were close... I believe you should go, Harry, no reason for you to be late getting on the train." The man ushered him out of the room, making sure he went up the stairs before shutting the door and slumping into his chair. The Man in the Painting Part 2 said something comforting, but he didn't hear him due to the age-old silencing spell.

"Snape?" Blaise asked when Harry hopped down the steps in front of the castle.

"Snape." He confirmed. The two of them sedately walked down to Hogsmeade Station, other students walking around them or rushing to get good seats. It was lightly snowing that day, and Harry was glad that he had the forethought to put on his cloak before walking out. Without it, he probably would have had to beg Hermione or Blaise to conjure a thick one so he didn't get a cold.

"There you two are! I was wondering where you had gotten off to." A voice called from behind. Hermione rushed up beside them, cheeks red with cold. "Did you know our things are automatically loaded onto the train? I wonder how they do that."

"They probably use house elves. Too much luggage to actually move themselves." Blaise replied, scratching his head. Hermione gave him a confused look.

"House elves?"

"Ah, right muggleborn, keep forgetting that... They're basically these big-eyed, big-eared creatures that do housework or run errands for wizards. They're pretty useful are around a house." But that point seemed to slip by Hermione, who immediately took on a horrified and outraged expression.

"So, so what, they're basically slaves!? How can you condone that?" She yelled, causing some people to glance their way.

"Hermione, you have to understand, it's not that much of a deal. I mean, Blaise has told me some stories of house elves getting abused, but that's generally seen as bad conduct since the things can snap you into an ocean or over a cliff. No matter what people say or teach about master-servant contracts, house elves can always defend themselves. And a lot of them actually _like _it, too." Harry argued, frowning. "I'd say as long as you treat them as actual sentient beings and respect them, it's okay."

"That's still horrible! They shouldn't have to serve wizards and witches!" Hermione yelled again. Blaise made a noise of annoyance,and Harry just shook his head. Sometimes, the girl was just too stubborn.

They reached the train and clambered on, quickly finding the rest of their friends with a well-placed _point me _spell. Draco, Neville, Theo, and Pansy had claimed a booth near the end of the train, and all greeted them when they settled in. Harry had to take a seat on the floor as there were too many of them, but he didn't mind as Blaise carded his hands through his hair and Neville started discussing the benefits of mixing herbology ingredients into food.

* * *

The train had ridden on into the evening, and they reached King's Cross a little before 6. They were all snappish at having to stay on the train so long- despite the fact they had already done this, perhaps it was the anticipation?- and hurried out when it finally stopped. With their luggage in hand, they said their goodbyes.

"Remember to mail me, you all. I want to know just how great this "Ball" is." Hermione said jokingly, giving Harry and Blaise quick hugs. They returned them, and promised to write her every so often. Pansy was given an unsure goodbye, and Draco was simply ignored outright. He didn't seem to upset about that. With a parting wave at the 6 of them, she ran off to the side of a brunet couple near the muggle entrance.

"Well, I suppose I'll see you guys before Christmas," Theo said, moving to leave, "Don't blow up anyone, you don't have two mother-hens to reign you in."

"Oh shut it Nott," Draco returned good-naturedly.

"Stuff it Malfoy! Have a good hols, Longbottom!" he called behind his shoulder as he disappeared into the crowd. Harry snickered at the enraged expression hidden on Draco's face before patting Neville on the back and wishing him a good holiday himself, as the boy's grandmother had appeared out of the ruckus, customary dead vulture on her head. The timid boy gave him a small smile and wished him good results, whatever that whammy of omnisity meant. It sort of made him edge away for a moment before he remembered that this was the boy who cried when he smashed a sapling by accident. Then he just patted him on the back again and pushed him off to Augusta Longbottom.

The last four of them dispersed accordingly, and Harry was infinitely surprised when, instead of fading into the crowd like some tiny shadow, Blaise dutifully followed him and Draco.

"I didn't know you were coming along," He commented to the taller boy.

"Mama thought it would be a good idea for some reason, although I have yet to see her reasoning." The boy replied, shrugging. "At least now I can make sure you don't hurt yourself, fratello."

"That- what does that mean? I know you've called me that before." Harry asked as Draco huffed a laugh in front of him. He shot a glare at the blond boy.

"Good friend."

"Oh."

As it was, Draco was not actually leading them in circles or around nilly-willy. The Malfoy family had all agreed to meet by a certain column, and there the two adults were, standing primly as if they were higher than everything there. When the woman- Narcissa Malfoy, obviously- saw the three of them, her expression softened slightly, but that was the only indication of anything warm on their faces. Lord Malfoy had a speculative gleam in his eyes, watching the three of them toddle over.

"Ah, boys, there you are. It's wonderful to see you, and a pleasure to meet you at last, Mr. Potter." She said in a cultured voice.

"P-Please, call me Harrison, Lady Malfoy. It has less connotations, at the very least." Harry replied, sending her a charming smile and bowing slightly. She raised a brow at that, but acquiesced easily enough.

"Then I must insist you call me Narcissa, Harrison."

"And I, Lucius." Lord Malfoy said, cutting in. Narcissa huffed out a small breath at the interruption before continuing.

"Now, why don't we head off? Dobby and Tippy should have a meal made for us at the Manor." Harry blinked as Draco and Blaise took her one of her arms in hand. Lord Malfoy noticed his confusion and thankfully didn't mention it, only holding out one of his own. When Harry grasped it, he felt a tug at his navel, then the feeling of going through a very thin straw, and then they were in the parlor of a very decorated household. They separated, and Harry marveled at the intricate details in the walls and furniture. The Malfoys were rich, and made no attempt to hide it, that was for sure.

"Tick! Tock! Please take the boys' bags and place them in their rooms." Lord Malfoy called. Two small house elves appeared and took the luggage, bowing and disappearing without a word. "You three go along and freshen up before dinner- I know that you must want to get out of those robes." He said, giving them a small smile before heading off to who knows where. Narcissa gave them a smile before following his lead.

"...You know, I would have expected something... different." Harry said. "Not smiles."

"Why's that?" Blaise asked as they started to walk down a hallway. It had multiple portraits hanging in it, some of them bickering among themselves and others watching the three youngsters move about.

"Boy who lived and all. Accidental pusher of light magic." Harry reminded.

"Oh. Do your parents actually have a problem with him, Draco? I don't think Harry's ever come up in their weird politic conversations." Draco hummed, and tried to think back.

"I suppose on principle they could. But I think after my multiple letters complaining about you waking us up at ungodly times or about you cursing my hair blue, they stopped really seeing you as that, Potter. I know my mother asked after you when news got out about Hollow's Eve."

"She did?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah, she asked after all of us, even Granger. Was enraged when she heard two students could have died because of lax wards. I'm pretty sure she would have thrashed Dumbledore if he weren't so important." They reached what was apparently to be their rooms, and Harry hesitantly opened the door Draco directed him to. Inside, it was a cool green, the colour of grass in the evening. There was a canopy bed in the corner, along with a wardrobe and a door that he assumed led to a bathroom or closet. At the foot of the bed, his suitcase was neatly sat and he hurried to open it and get out of these god-awful robes.

Once he was dressed in a comfortable pair of slacks and a grey button-up, he left the room to where Blaise and Draco were waiting in the hallway. They were dressed similarly, although Draco had decided to switch his robes rather than completely forgo them. They trotted back down the halls, Draco mentioning a detail about this or that as they did. He seemed far more relaxed than he ever did at Hogwarts, his face lax and his posture not ramrod straight for once. when Harry commented on it, the blond had just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Appearances."

They were about to enter the dining room when a voice called out from above. "You! Who are you?" It said. They turned to see a woman with a harsh, narrow face staring down at them, focused on Harry. When he tilted his head in question, she waved her hand impatiently. "Well, answer!"

"Uh, oh, my apologies ma'am. My name is Harry Potter."

"Are you related to James Potter?" She asked, her eyes narrowing. Harry gulped quietly and hoped a painting wouldn't shout him down the first day of his hols.  
"Er, yes ma'am. He was my father. May I inquire as to why you're asking?" The woman closed her eyes, cursing softly under her breath before turning her attention back to him.  
"No particular reason, Mr. Potter. You simply looked a great deal like him, although your face seems a tad longer. You may go." They had no hesitation as they rushed into the dining room, Harry glad to be away from the woman's piercing stare.

"Who was that?" He whispered to Draco.

"Dorea Black. She was an aunt of my mum, I think." He whispered back, straightening when Narcissa and Lucius saw them. They quickly sat down, and Harry wasn't surprised when the food appeared in a way much like Hogwarts. He tried his best with the silverware, and attempted to at least hold up ends of conversation, but i just seemed awkward to hm trying to hold up a conversation about what they were learning when he was sure it was all just cannon fodder to pass the time.

"To be honest, sir, the spells they teach us don't really help." He admitted at one point when Lucius asked after such. "We've had more progress learning and practicing spells in our own small study group than in classes. And with all the trouble recently, it makes everything seem even more useless." He picked at his food despondently at that, because really, how would a tickling charm or the transfiguration movement for rat-to-cup ever help in a battle?

"Trouble?" Narcissa asked sharply, eyes narrowing. Unfortunately for Harry, he didn't notice the warning signs from Draco and Blaise, who were kicking him under the table and poking him respectively.

"Well, yeah, with the t-troll and the broom during the Quidditch match. Someone tried to knock me off mine with a curse or something." He replied. "I'm sort of surprised M-Draco didn't tell you about that one, since he was glued to the game the whole time." By now, he could certainly feel the blond viciously attacking his shins, and kicked him back in retaliation.

"See this is why I keep telling you to push the Board!" Narcissa yelled, jabbing her knife in an alarmed Lucius' direction. "Children nearly falling to their deaths during small _games_ or getting crushed by a troll! A Headmaster who allows this shouldn't be in charge!"

"Narcissa, there's not much to be done," Her husband said wearily, keeping an eye on her knife, "Most of them believe him to be more than fully capable. It would take a scandal to uproot him."

"And he's still going to be able to control the school at least a little since he's the Supreme Mugwump, ma'am." Blaise added, spearing a poor piece of chicken. Hadn't Harry heard that somewhere before?

"Curse that man and his reach, then," Narcissa spat, "And burn his beard to ash. It's bad enough having to see you three sent to that wretched school. To think it's the only one in the Isles..." Lucius sighed at that, obviously having run through this many times, and rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

The rest of the meal passed silently, and any attempts at conversation were squashed down by the violent attacking of food by Narcissa. When it was done, the boys parted hurriedly, hoping to avoid the woman's wrath of justice. Draco lead them down the halls again, although it was more Harry being led and Blaise following at a sedate pace, and eventually brought them to a large set of doors. He pushed them open slowly, and smirked triumphantly at Harry's gasp of wonder.

It was a library, a huge, sprawling one with shelves reaching to the ceiling and out to the other wall. Small, large, old, new, all sorts of books were held on them. Chairs and sofas were scattered around, along with a table or two to place a large amount of tomes. Harry dazedly stumbled into the wonderland of knowledge.

"Draco, you are officially my favourite." He declared, racing to the nearest shelf and skimming his fingers over the spines. Blaise made a noise of mock-offense behind him.  
"But what about me, Harry? I thought I was your favourite!" He whined, dramatically slumping into an armchair. Harry gave him a blank look.

"You're exempt from ranking. It wouldn't be fair to have you on it." He gave the other boy a bemused glance when he whooped and nearly fell from his perch. Skimming once more, he pulled a book off the shelves and flipped through it. It was an old one, writing about the effects of certain spells during times of pregnancy. Picking up the one that was next to it, he saw that it was filled with instructions on how to amplify grey spells to something not so grey.

"How do you even organise these?" He wondered as he replaced them. Books about cleaning were next to ones about healing and ones about dueling. It had little organisation as far as he could tell.

"I think we do it by author, but I can't be sure. I usually just use _point me_ to find what I need." Draco said from behind him, grabbing a book himself. "There's not much point showing you around or going out on the yard, so we should probably just stay in here until sleep." Harry nodded in agreement. He plucked a random book off the shelf, which turned out to be on the various subspecies of vampires and their warring history, and settled in for a good reading.

They spent the night like that, sitting together in a small triangle, with Blaise making random comments from time to time as the two of them read. The room was warm, and the mood comfortable. Harry didn't notice when he fell asleep, or when Draco calmly took their books and set them on the table for later. He didn't stir when Blaise took him to his room and slipped him into the bed with a quick clothes charm many parents used on their tired children. He simply dreamt of a large dog, and a yard scattered with people he thought-he-knew-but-couldn't-remember.

* * *

It was light out when Harry woke, and he slowly stretched on the bed, feeling more well-rested than he had in weeks. As he lazily stared out the window, the fact it was sunny and bright finally hit him and and he jumped out of bed, cursing. He changed out of his nightclothes- which, weird, he couldn't remember putting them on, or even coming back here for that matter- and into a casual shirt and slacks, rushing out the door. He dashed past the portraits, panting by the time he reached the dining room, and nearly groaned in irritation as he saw no one but Narcissa was inside. When the woman saw him in the doorway, she gave him a smile and waved him in, holding out a muffin he gratefully took.

"I'm not horribly late, am I?" He asked between bites of delicious cranberry-stuffed bread.

"The other haven't even risen yet." Narcissa said with an amused grin, "Lucius was never one for mornings, and Draco is impossible to wake on holidays. I'm afraid I don't know about Blaise though. Knowing Nicola, she probably hexed him red every time he didn't wake up on time." Harry snickered at the thought of a half-asleep, red Blaise looking in the mirror to see that. Ah, he'd have to ask Nicola if she actually did that, and if she had any pictures.

They quietly ate their dinner, discussing the books in the library, which was far less awkward than having to dance around their group's school shenanigans. Blaise stumbled in shortly after Harry, and Draco and Lucius appeared around half an hour later, bedheads raging and eyes dull. Harry didn't think he heard Lucius say a word until the man had downed a cup and a half of coffee.

"What were you three planning to do today?" The man asked when he was coherent, spreading butter on a slice of toast.

"Well, I wanted to show P-Harry around the Manor, since he hasn't been here before, and then we were going to go out and fly on the brooms." Draco said. Narcissa frowned at his slip, but didn't say anything. Was it strange? It had been pretty commonplace for many Snakes to just use last names, especially since some tried to distance themselves.

"You should show the two of them to the new sunroom we added," She suggested, "It would be a wonderful place to read or practice some of those spells you talked about." Blaise and Harry shared curious glances over that, and Draco and excited grin, giddy at the prospect.

The mail arrived then, owls swooping in and dropping letters or newspapers onto the table and waiting for payment or food. Lucius immediately swept up the paper, going over whatever tripe was published that day. Harry fondly gave Hedwig, who had been delivering a package, a piece of bacon that she gobbled up instantly. With a soft hoot and rub against his hand, she was off again, sailing back through the window.

"What's that?" Draco asked, peering at his package as though it would unravel and reveal itself. Harry just shook his head and grinned.

* * *

Coincidentally, when Harry got into the air on his Nimbus later that day, he realised why his schedule was off-kilter this morning. When he looked across the grounds, it became obvious that the Malfoy Manor was something of a magical behemoth, with how many wards it had around it. When he poked one of the silver things, it had shocked his finger and somehow given him a distinct air of "no touchy". Draco and Blaise had stared at him weird for poking thin air but _dammit_ he was on vacation he was gonna poke what he wanted. After lunch they wandered into the sunroom Narcissa mentioned, which was similarly coloured as the wards.

It had two glass walls, letting you look out onto the gardened grounds. Flowers, trees, strange moving hedges, and much more were visible in the beautiful. Harry was a bit worried when he thought he saw a white peacock, but he wrote it off as having slept too long. The three of them had brought books they pilfered from the Hogwarts' and Malfoy's libraries, ranging from hexes to charms and even curses with some of the ones from the Malfoy's. Right now, they were sitting around and figuring out how to actually practice without destroying anything.

"I don't know any strengthening or shield charms to protect the lamps and windows." Draco muttered, flipping through some random housework manual. Harry doubted any of the Malfoys had touched it in years, as it was covered in dust.

"I think they're already there, Draco." He said, taking the book from the boy and spelling away the dust.

"And just how do you know that? Can you see it, woven everywhere?" The blond demanded, crossing his arms.

Harry raised a brow. If only he knew. "Your mother told me right before we went out so we didn't end up sitting here like we have been. I didn't mention it because of the novelty of you reading a book about working." He lied, carefully setting said book on the table. Draco's jaw was dropped in incredulity, but he ignored it in favour of sending a _bombarda _at one of the glass walls. The other two could only let out screeches when the light hit and disappeared, fading from green to the silver Harry saw. He turned back to them, satisfied, and said, "See? Perfectly fine."

"_HARRY, that was a big, big no-no. _Never do that again. Non puoi*****." Blaise growled, pale. "I would rather not have us all become porcupines because you wanted to prove a point." Harry shrugged at that, and pulled out one of the books, flipping randomly to a page and reading its details before attempting.

The rest of the day was... calm. And so were the days after, surprisingly to Harry. He would wake up and find Narcissa in the dining room with breakfast, with Blaise sometimes with her, and they would chat. When the last two members of the house were up, they'd take care of the mail (which reminded him- he had asked Nicola about that name Blaise had kept calling him, and she just laughed. Somehow. In a letter. Should he be worried?) and torment Draco and Lucius with bright light. The rest of the day was spent racing n brooms, practicing spells, or generally annoying each other until lunch, and then dinner. Harry had been slowly getting the presents he ordered for his friends, and he was relieved to see they were all intact- who knew what could happen while an owl was flying?

But of course, all good things must come to an end.

Namely a Ball involving stuffy robes and uptight spines.

Which explained Harry's attitude now, as he watched Narcissa order the house elves to put this up, or move that, or watch out for Harry because dropping a swan ice sculpture on their head is probably not good for one's health.

"Harrison darling, are you alright? Where are Draco and Blaise?" Narcissa asked, barking at a house elf for dropping a vase seconds later. Harry would have been shocked by the woman's manner if she hadn't made Lucius nearly whimper the first night they were there. The matter of the fact was, he had no idea where the two were. They had rushed off after breakfast, Blaise hurriedly hugging him and telling Harry to wander in the library for the day because of "pureblood business". He nearly shocked him for saying that, but the two of them ran off before he had the chance.

"Probably off setting a trap for the others, Ms. Narcissa. They left me to fend for myself this morning." He replied, falling into a chair near them with a sigh. Narcissa sen a frown his way, and snapped her fingers. A small elf wearing a tea cozy appeared at her side, wringing its hands.

"Yes mistress, what can Copper be doings for you?"

"Copper, find my son and his friend, Blaise. I'm afraid they have some explaining to do, leaving Harrison out." She commanded, ignoring Harry's babbles that _no that wasn't needed I'm sorry they don't need to come_. The elf disappeared to who knows where, reappearing a few minutes later, a regretful expression on their face.

"I's be sorry ma'am, but master Draco and Blaise bes doing something very important. They can't be disturbed." Narcissa narrowed her eyes, and Harry was afraid she'd suddenly strike the poor thing, before she snapped her fingers again, making it poof away silently.

"Well, I suppose that leaves you with me for the day, Harrison." She said remorsefully, tsking her tongue at the boys' behavior. But her face suddenly brightened, and she looked over at Harry with a shine in her eyes.

"Tell me Harrison, do you think navy or sky blue streamers would better complement the walls?"

* * *

The other boys may not believe him, and may like to entertain the idea that it was torture helping the older woman decorate, but Harry actually found it fun. Narcissa had told him various things while they were choosing what to use; she had explained the meaning of camellias (graciousness), and the significance of certain colours in highly political events (green and orange were generally seen as aggressive, red and grey passive, and blue and purple neutral, which made no sense to him), and how to hide the fact you really don't want to touch someone's sweaty hand. By the time they were finished, the ballroom was decorated with shades of blue, hints of grey and green hidden here and there for fun. The tables were covered with fine tablecloths, a bouquet in the corner of each, and the swan sculpture stood proud in the middle of the room.

"You run along to put your formal clothes on," Narcissa said, turning to him after admiring their choices, "I can guess what it is, knowing Nicola." He ran to his rooms, briefly wondering how Narcissa knew Nicola had gotten clothes for him before shaking it off with annoyance. Did it really matter? He had to brace himself right now, for hours of horrid socialising and people talking to him.

When he actually looked hard and well at what Nicola had made for him, he understood what Narcissa meant.

It was a suit that looked to be his measurements, coloured a sleek grey with a forest green tie and black undershirt. He stared at it a bit before even considering picking it up, marveling at the craftsmanship. He had to hand it to Madame Malkin, she could weave up some fine clothes.

It took him a while getting it on, not used to such outfits and scared to rip it. When he went into the bathroom to check himself, he was amazed out how... different it made him look. His sharp edges were hidden in the firm fabric, and his eyes stood out more than ever. Standing a bit straighter, he thought he looked.. confident.

"You look darling sweetie. If only you could do something about that hair." A voice lamented, startling him out of his thoughts. He glanced around frantically, slipping his wand into his hand, before the voice chuckled. "Look in front of you, Hun." With a bewildered glance, he flicked his eyes to the mirror, only to stop and nearly hit himself in anger. The mirror was covered in _magic_. It must have been one of those-those talking ones Blaise told him households got.

"Well, whatever I do doesn't calm it down, so I'm up to suggestions." He tiredly replied, tugging on a few strands of his long bird nest.

"Try _Supero Pelo*_. One of the girls that used to live in here constantly used it, and it worked like a charm." The mirror cheerfully said. He blinked, feeling a little off-kilter at a mirror giving him hair advice, but did what it said, casting the spell. His hair tamed at once, going from its tangled curls and painful knots that never came out to a messy waviness that was manageable. He wove his fingers through it, amazed, and immediately braided it, happy to be able to do so without ten minutes of pain and anger at having to fix it.

"Any reason the spell is mixed up with its languages?" He idly asked, tying up the last knock in his braid.

"The girl wasn't very smart, I'm afraid. Great with resources though- worked with what she had, which turned out to be remedial knowledge of Latin and a Spanish dictionary." The mirror said bemusedly. It had a nostalgic tone to its voice, and Harry wondered if it had been close to the girl.

"Well, thank you for the help. I'm afraid I have to go now." He waved goodbye to the mirror who gave an enthusiastic parting, telling him not to pick any girls up. As if.

When he stepped out of his room, he was flanked by Draco and Blaise on both sides, each of them taking an arm. He glared at the two of them, Blaise grinning and Draco smirking. They were dressed in formal wear as well, Draco with something even more medieval than usual, and Blaise with a smart, black suit.

"We spent all day making something for him, and he glares at us so, Draco! What ungratefulness!" Blaise exclaimed in mock woe, tipping to the side as if to faint. Harry squeezed when he nearly went with.

"Oh, cut it, you chit. Everyone knows you enjoyed every minute." The other boy said, smirking playfully.

"I'm sorry, could one of you buffoons explain this? I'd rather know why I'm being carried like a sow." Harry finally snapped, the air crackling. Not that he actually noticed that, as focused as he was on the other's faces. Draco's shock was amusing, though, as the boy quickly made to drop him, wanting no repeat of the incident with the ring. Harry never would forgive him for trying to take that.

Blaise chuckled, and gently shifted his grip, sliding his arm around Harry's instead. "Us and the others pitched in a little to find a way to get away from the crowds. We all know you hate dealing with people, and Pansy and Draco both agree that inter-family relationships aren't worth the sweaty palms right now."

"...Oh. What was with the secrecy, then?" Harry asked.

"Parents." Draco said gravely.

"Parents." Blaise echoed. Harry could only give them an odd stare as they hauled him downstairs to the ballroom, where everyone was gathering. People flitted in and out, apparating in or leaving to greet someone who had appeared. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could swear that he had seen someone that looked similar to Snape, but he doubted the man would ever want to come to a social function.

When they went inside, the three of them covertly snuck to a corner in the back, shadowed slightly by a giant flower Narcissa had insisted on putting there. As they got closer, Harry could see a slight, shiny bubble surrounding it, and realised the others must have done something. They went headfirst into the bubble, a slightly muffled feeling covering Harry before disappearing. It was then the others, in their formal robes and complex dresses, became visible. Pansy smirked at his dumbfounded expression, and Theo snickered behind a gloved hand. The others were there as well, Gregory and Vincent smiling at him and Daphne sipping from a cup. Millicent was fiddling with a button on the cuff of her shirt. Draco moved away, although Blaise had yet to unhook his arm.

"See? Everything works out!" Pansy piped up, giving Draco a smirk, which he promptly ignored. "How has your visit been at the Manor been so far, Harry? We have to make sure Dracy-poo here isn't mistreating you~." She cooed, giggling when Draco growled and swiped at her. "Locking him up in his room, or feeding him blood, or leaving him alone for a whole day~."

"I'll have you know I've been treating Harry fine!" Draco shouted, face red. "He's been having muffins with my mother about every morning, and we argue over spells in the sunroom. I'm sure he's happy. Are you happy here, Harry?" The boy pleaded, turning to the other boy.

"Oh, so it's Harry now? What happened to Potter?"

"Draco, please don't look at me like that, it's disturbing. And I've been fine, Pansy. Draco is the perfect rude gentleman." Harry assured, grinning. Draco whined something unintelligible at that, and everyone had a laugh. They settled into the chairs that surrounded the table here, and someone- he couldn't pinpoint who- handed him a cup full of fruit punch. He sipped it as the others rambled on about their holidays so far.

"-and Granger got on my case about it! Which one of you mentioned house elves to her?" Theo was demanding, leaning over his plate of... something. It was meat in origin, at least.

"That's Blaise's fault," Harry cut in, ignoring the boy's wounded stare at the betrayal, "She asked how all our luggage was transported onto the train, and it came out without thinking. You can't blame him for not knowing how she would react."

Theo deflated, mumbling something and poking his mystery-probably-duck-meat. Pansy poked him, and hissed when he brandished his fork in her direction.

"You dare challenge me, cowardly knight? I will defeat you easily!" She boasted, raising her fork in challenge. The two of them met eyes, and began to try to jab each other with the forks with barely any hesitation. The other 6 of them watched on bemusedly as the duo added sound effects, fake wounds, and threats into their mock battle, ending it when Pansy "pierced" Theo in the heart.

"NOOOOO! I have been felled! Someone tell my love that I cher...ish.. them." He fell dramatically over his plate, and made everyone burst out laughing when he made no attempt to hide his sneaking of food to his "dead" body.

"You all are insane." Draco said primly, before charming Theo into full knight armor. Then no one kept it together.

Harry yawned as he helped the others clean up. It wasn't like the party had been wild, nothing remotely near it, but there were still cups and plates lying about, and no matter what the house elves said, he could at least gather everything up for easy pick-up. The others had already gone to bed or headed home through the floo, Blaise incorrectly assuming that Harry had followed them. The other boy probably wouldn't realise until he knocked on Harry's door to make sure he wasn't staying up to read. Harry tiredly stacked the cups into high towers in his hands, holding them steady so they didn't all come crashing down. Lucius, Narcissa, and a few others were talking by the doorway, but he doubted they noticed him. A well-placed _notice-me-not_ made sure no one really did. He dumped the cups onto the assigned table, sighing in relief as he gazed around and saw that was the last of them. The plates had already been gathered, and were quickly disappearing as the elves took them up themselves. He slumped into a chair, happy to be able to relax. He wasn't exactly the strongest trooper around, and all those plate added up sooner or later...

He jumped when a hand tapped him on his shoulder, and gazed up to see, indeed, Professor Snape staring down at him with a raised brow.

"Mr.P-Harry, is there any reason you are still up at this hour?" The man asked, helping the boy out of the chair. Harry stretched, hoping to leak some of the sleepiness from his bones. It actually seemed to work, although Professor Snape stiffened.

"I was helping clean up a bit, sir. I know the house elves can do it themselves, but it didn't seem polite to leave everything out like this." He replied sleepily, rubbing at his eyes to wake himself up. Professor Snape sighed in front of him, and began to guide him out of the room, a hand on his back. Harry heard him say something, and another person reply, but he was too tired to really try to figure out what they were actually talking about. The hand stayed on his back, pushing him up the stairs and making sure he didn't trip and crack his head open. He didn't realise they were outside his room until the hand poked him aware, making him realise that Professor Snape had nudged him up to his room while he was barely awake. He would have blushed if it weren't for the fact the man didn't seem to really care.

"Er, thank you for the help, sir." He mumbled, scratching the back of his head, frowning at the mess his braid now was. The man simply inclined his head.

"Make sure you do not fall asleep in the ballroom again, Harry." He said with a hint of a smirk before turning and stalking back down the stairs. Harry blinked after him for a bit before deciding he really just did not care right now and going into his room. He was lucky he remembered to take his suit off before he passed out on his bed.

* * *

The next morning, when Blaise jumped onto the bed, Harry had no qualms conjuring a bucket and hurling it at the other boy. Said boy yelped and ducked, glancing back at the bucket when it hit the wall.

"Harry, where were you last night? You weren't in your room when I checked." Blaise demanded, poking Harry. He groaned, and turned over, burrowing himself into the blankets. Conversation was about the farthest thing from what Harry was in the mood for, which was sleeping in until noon and eating a late lunch of pancakes and blueberries. But, fate was a cruel, assy mistress it seems, because Blaise ripped the warm blankets away from him, ignoring his whines at the sudden cold.

"Uh-uh, no going back to sleep, you. Not until you answer me. Besides, everyone else is already up, so there's no point." Harry shot up out of the bed, blinking at Blaise dazedly.

"What do you mean everyone's up? It takes Draco and Lucius hours just to say more than a grunt."

Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "It's Christmas." Harry sighed and patted down his hair. Guess there really was no point going back to sleep. He waved Blaise away with his hands, and gathered up the comforter, throwing it over his shoulders and bundling up in it. He may have to get up, but there was_ no way _he was sitting there in that cold dining room again without something that didn't border on cold itself. The two of them trudged down the hall, slowly making their way since Harry refused to go any faster.

"Well?" Blaise asked impatiently, poking Harry again. "Where were you? You weren't exploring on your own, were you? Because despite what Draco and Lucius might say, Harry, Malfoy Manor isn't the safest place."

"I was helping clean up downstairs," Harry replied, "Stayed longer than I meant to. I think Professor Snape pushed me back to my rooms." Blaise gave him an odd look (very odd, because _what_), but dropped the subject, satisfied that the other boy had at least slept at some point.

They finally reached the dining room, where Draco was impatiently waiting with crossed arms and the adults were watching with amused stares. "It took you long enough!" Draco called hotly, looking more like a puffed-up puppy than anything that could make them feel scared or guilty.

"Draco, calm down, or else your hair-gel will mess up." Harry absently said, snatching a scone from the table and taking a seat to his left. Blaise decided to switch it up this morning, and took the opposite seat, stealing a sausage from Draco's plate. The blond boy sputtered, but quickly calmed down when Harry passed him the strawberry jam. For some reason none of the other Snakes had been able to pry out of him, the boy was obsessed with the stuff. It made for good bargaining chips.

They ate amiably, and the mail soon came, letters from friends and family swooped in by owls. The newspaper was among them, and Harry was surprised when Blaise plucked it out of the pile first, perusing it absentmindedly. He was more surprised and slightly worried when the Zabini promptly choked on his sausage and had to have Draco whack it out of him. When he finally regained some of his breathing, Draco tilted the paper to see what sent him into a damn choking fit, just enough for them all to get a view.

You can't really blame Harry for accidentally making the windows explode when he saw the header.

_**"HOGWARTS: SAFE FOR YOUR CHILDREN? HIDDEN SCANDALS OF ABUSE, DANGER, AND DARK ARTS COME TO LIGHT!"**_

* * *

FUCKCKCKCKCKCK THIS TOOK SO LONG TO WRITE DO YOU GUYS KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO MAKE A STORY THAT HAS SMOOTHNESS AND NOT FUCKY JUMPS THAT MAKE IT AWKWARD? FUFDNJFNDKNDNFVIDNI

In other news, this is like my longest yet. Yay! Shits gone down.

Asterisks: *togas and stolas were worn by male and female citizens of rome! Males wore togas and females wore female togas, or stolas.

*Fratello = brother. Daw.

*Non puoi = you cannot

*Supero Pelo- I overcome hair :L

Review replies!

**akasanta - **Shit, aren't computer programs harder though? I know my friend tore her hair out over just HTMLs ono

**Sazq - **Thanks! I love the thing I made it with, ehehe ouo And same, although any relationship is better than bitter I-loved-your-mom-and-hated-your-dad-so-fuck-you...

**FallenAngel10086 - **Ahaa, grazie! I worked really hard on trying to make this at least a bit unique, and its nice to know that it shows.

**geetac - **Grazie amica(us?)!

**WL Chastain - **SHIT that explains a lot fff. I know one person told me that they looked up really random pairings but thats not gonna bring a lotta readers in yknow? At least now I have an... idea...


	12. The Truth 1

nyerrrrrrr

* * *

_**HOGWARTS: SAFE FOR YOUR CHILDREN? HIDDEN SCANDALS OF ABUSE, DANGER, AND DARK ARTS COME TO LIGHT!**_

_Written by Rita Skeeter_

_In an unprecedented move, multiple heads of house in Magical Britain have come forward to shed light on the horrible happening going on in Hogwarts that the public was deemed unfit to know of. Family heads, along with various other testifiers, have told me of hidden abuse, misuse of power, and the neglect of a certain headmaster to prevent children from slipping into the Dark. Due to their want for privacy, all names mentioned have been censored._

_RS: Madame ******, could you explain why you all felt the need to come forward?_

_Madame ******: I am afraid that we felt it necessary beyond all now that I was made aware to certain... pieces of information recently. The Headmaster, even if he is oblivious, has failed in his duties to protect students far too many times. I know that I, and many others of my house, were harassed to the point of terror simply because of our stereotypes, with no regard to the consequences, mental or physical._

_RS: Harassed?_

_Madame ******: Spells randomly shot at us, physically attacked, verbally beaten down, take your pick. It constantly amazes me how awful it was, and how it managed to knit us so close together. But this is not to be about the past, it is to be about protecting students in the future, yes?_

_RS: Oh! Yes, yes, my apologies, ma'am. Please, tell us what's been going on; I have no doubt it's terrible, if you felt the need to contact someone._

_Madame ******: I suppose you could coin it such. From what I have heard from my child, there has been attacks on students and an invasion of the school, at least once for each. He told me days after Hollow's Eve, to my astonishment, that a __**troll **__had entered the castle, and nearly killed two students. Later, during a game of sport, another child nearly fell of his broom 50 feet in the air because of what they suspect was a curse. Can you imagine how outraged we felt, how scared we were for our children when we heard that? And that is not even considering the poor souls who were abandoned to their homes each summer or holiday, forced to be near those that hurt them because it was __**necessary**__._

_-Here Madame ******* was forced to calm herself, and I even spotted sparks coming out of the tip of her wand.-_

_Madame ******: Three children I know of for certain have been left in the shadows. Two have grown, but they were affected, scarred. I grew up with one of them, tried to help him each time we arrived back at the castle, tried to make sure no one found out. I knew he would want it to stay hidden. The other... he fell. The idiot, he fell because the Headmaster would not shelter him for a mere three months, and now he is no better than the Death Eaters that used to terrorise the county. Worse. I can only hope this interview can help the last. They are.. a sweet child. I think that without them, my own would still be in the social rut I unfortunately doomed him to. I do not want to them fall so._

_The full interview and more details on pages 2B, 3B, and 4B_

_Hogwarts: Is it Really Protected? on page 3C_

_Magical and Muggle Child Protection Laws: A Discussion on pages 4C and 5C._

Narcissa had screeched when the windows broke, and Lucius threw up a silver wall of protection over the lot of them. The three boys hadn't reacted at all to it, Blaise still pale beyond belief and Harry staring blankly at the paper in Draco's hands. Later, Harry couldn't even recall them smashing, only the adults snatching them up and dashing out of the room. When the shards of glass had stopped raining down on them, Lucius and Narcissa immediately scooped them up, Lucius taking Blaise and Draco while Narcissa grabbed Harry. He flinched when she grabbed him, and tried to scramble out of her grip, but the woman's thin arms belied hidden strength, and she carried him easily- or maybe it was just because he was underweight? The adults rushed into one of the sitting rooms off the main hall and gently put the boys on the rug, Narcissa warding the door and Lucius checking them for injuries. A quick overview revealed that, somehow, they hadn't actually been attacked, and that the windows had broken on their own.

"Perchè? Perchè è..*****?" Blaise was mumbling, brow furrowed and staring at nothing. His hands were gesturing, as though he were talking to someone, but neither Narcissa nor Lucius could get an inkling of what he meant. Narcissa gently shook him, not wanting to startle him. Blaise snapped out of his daze, blinking at her before scooting over to Harry and tugging on his hair to try and get a reaction. He snapped his hand back as if burned when the smaller boy turned his glaring eyes on him, his irises practically glowing. Narcissa took Lucius towards the door, hissing furiously.

"That shouldn't have been possible, Lucius, I saw you place the unbreakable charms on those windows not last week, strong ones that should have held for months! How could they have all shattered at once?"

"I don't _know_, Cissa. The only _actual _possibility is that something drained it. Seeing as we weren't being attacked, that's not my priority. Right now, we need to focus on making sure one of them isn't traumatised.." Narcissa sighed, shooting an uncertain glance at the wards, before giving the boys a once-over herself. She frowned when she saw Draco still clutching the newspaper-and white-knuckled, she noticed- and Harry staring at nothing, looking particularly queasy. Blaise was wringing his hands, and a scowl was firmly set on his face. She waved her hands over their faces, earning no response. Grimacing, she pried the newspaper from her son's hands, lying it on a table for now, and tapped the boys' shoulders, catching their attention and checking their heads when they actually acted alive. Lucius, meanwhile, skimmed over the paper's contents, eyes widening as he recognised the very familiar speech pattern.

"I can't believe you all are unharmed, as happy as I am about it... Why did you all freeze like that? Who knows what would have happened if Lucius hadn't thrown up a shield! It was something in the paper, correct?" Draco gave her a helpless look, glancing between the other two as if unsure he could say anything. Blaise gave him a shrug, and Harry refused to turn their way, focused on nothing.

"Cissa, _She's _up to something." Lucius called, running his fingers over the words speculatively. "But this isn't her normal procedure. She usually wraps everyone around her finger and then bites down with venom, doesn't she?"

"Oh, stop with your bratty feud, Lucius," Narcissa snapped, angry. "Nicola's choices are hardly your problem, and it's not her fault _you _decided she wasn't worth the time." Harry let out a pained noise at the mention of the name, burying his head in his hands; Draco _tried _to comfort him, but he sorely doubted anything beyond burning everyone's memory would help at this point. Lucius scowled at his wife and tossed the paper towards her, flicking his eyes to the boys that were still huddled on the floor.

"Blaise, do you know who your mother is talking about?"

"No!" Blaise answered quickly, eyes far too wide and hands far too shaky to be telling the truth. He winced and pulled his hands apart, folding them neatly in his lap. The blond man raised a brow and switched his gaze to his son, who eeped and hid slightly behind his mother.

"I'm afraid we really don't know father. This is the first I've heard of it." He said shakily, shooting a glare at the paper in his mother's hands.

"Draco, I feel the need to remind you that you're a horrible liar." Narcissa said absently, taking a seat on a recliner. "Do you suppose that _he_ let her mention this, Lucius? I don't think he'd want her spreading this around like it was gossip."

"Maybe. He did warn us last night about something happening." The man replied wearily.

"Then who else is she talking about?"

"The Dark Lord." Harry suddenly said, raising his head. He didn't meet anyone's gaze, and kept to his hands, picking at the nails. "She told me once that the Dark Lord had- problems when he grew up. That's the only person I can think of, with what she said." The four of them gave him disbelieving stares because _why _was he discussing the _Dark Lord's past _with her?

"Okay, that is mildly worrying, that you're discussing that with Mama." Blaise muttered. He spoke up louder with the next line, brows furrowed again. "Harry, maybe-"

"No." The Potter harshly cut him off, giving an even look that spoke volumes of how unsettled this had made him. Blaise flinched at it, averting his eyes back to the paper.

The adults narrowed their eyes, and Lucius sent Narcissa a furtive glance. She caught it, and nodded slightly. Never mind the suspicious flinches and long sleeves, or the small portions of food and guarded body language the boy constantly had. Never mind the fact that Blaise hovered more than a hawk, or the fact their son was actually being gentle with someone. After the morning, there'd be no doubt.

"Blaise, Harrison, I don't think you need to hide anything." Narcissa said softly, concerned eyes watching as both jumped. Blaise had a distinctly guilty cast, and Harry- holy hell were those sparks?

Draco let out a shriek as green sparks started flying from Harry's hands _freaking them all the fuck out, _and the small boy waved his hands, trying to make them stop, but it only seemed to agitate whatever was happening more, sending out larger and hotter sparks until Harry was pretty sure it constituted as a fire. Lucius was about to send an _aguamenti _his way when they suddenly extinguished, Harry slumping over more tired than he'd been in years.

"Oh my Gods." Blaise breathed, panickedly running his fingers over the previously blazing skin. "How- what the bloody _hell, _Harry? As far as I knew you weren't the Torch."

"Stop making mundane references." He mumbled back, eyeing his hands as well.

"You-"

"_Boys._" Narcissa ground out in front of them. "Can you please stop joking around? Are you alright, Harrison?" The boy numbly nodded his head, and the woman raked a hand through his hair, carefully sliding the blanket back up his shoulders from where it had fallen. "Now. Lucius, go get the "Box of potions". You know which. Draco, Blaise, Harry, go to the sunroom. We will... put this aside for now, if only for the sake of celebrating the day, and then we will discuss this. _Understand_?" The trio hurriedly nodded their head, and soon the four males were running off in their assigned directions, not wanting to disobey the mother dragon.

* * *

Harry was awkwardly perched on the sofa in the gathering room when a large box poofed into existence next to him. Used to this because of the house elves, he barely reacted, giving off no more than a twitch.

The room was warm as ever, and finally decorated for the season. A large Christmas tree was in the corner, covered in colourful baubles and lights captured in jars. There was a mound of packages underneath it, obviously the presents. The walls were draped with tinsel, something that was a bother in both Muggle and Magical worlds it seemed, and the house elves had spared no corner of the room from holly vines. A fire crackled in front of them, and Harry really would have enjoyed it if it weren't for the whole day before they entered. Draco and Blaise were arguing over him, apparently forgetting he was right there.

"Malfoy, if you tell them, I won't hesitate to hex your mouth shut and stick your damn eyes where the sun doesn't shine." Blaise hissed, wand jabbing into the pale boy's neck. Draco was reciprocating in kind, eyes cold in a way Harry hadn't seen before Hallow's Eve.

"You try it, Zabini, and I'll make sure you're stuck as a rat for a year and a night. Why can't you except the simple fact that some things need to be known is beyond me."

"Because it won't help!" Blaise exploded, grabbing Draco's collar in both hands with a red face, "It won't help, because we _tried _this Malfoy, we tried years ago before everything was so much worse, and you know what happened? My Mama was _laughed at_, because how could anyone abuse a child so badly, especially a famous one? Now shut up before I slap you with your own cintura*****, tu _idioto*****_." Blaise seethed, Draco flinching with a scowl. Silence fell as Blaise let go of him and leaned back into his seat, glaring at the fireplace rather ferociously. Harry sighed, stuck between the two of them and not knowing what to do. He helped Draco straighten his collar, and patted Blaise's hand, and was eternally grateful when the adults strode in, tense smiles on their faces.

"Now, why don't we open the presents? I'll call an elf to get us scones, too." Narcissa said, taking a seat in one of the armchairs. An elf instantly appeared with a tray, no doubt waiting for the signal, and set it down on the end table between them; the tray was laden with scones and toast, small things no one could really cause damage with. Lucius took a piece of toast for himself before sitting down as well, peering at the pile in interest. Many owls had come recently bearing gifts sent early, which were taken by the elves until Christmas day. It was an old trick that kept small children from tearing into theirs prematurely.

The boys awkwardly picked at their food, Blaise giving Draco a silent apology with a particularly large scone. Harry nibbled at his toast, feeling more queasy than anything resembling wanting food.

"Now, who wants to go first?" Narcissa asked cheerily, clapping her hands. They looked between each other before Harry not-so-discreetly kicked Draco in the shin, dragging a hiss and glare out of him. He sighed, and resignedly raised his hand. The two adults snickered at the boys' behavior. Narcissa waved her wand, and four packages went flying about the room into the laps of her, Blaise, Harry, and Lucius. The males stared at her confusedly until she broke down and chuckled behind her hand.

"I never said what I was going to do, you four. I only asked who was going to go first. Now go on, open them! Let's see what my dear Dragon's gotten us." Lucius sighed at his wife's antics and patted his blushing son's head, long used to the woman's moods. They carefully removed the wrapping on the packages, Harry not wanting to possibly break it and Lucius and Blaise not wanting to create a mess. Harry was honestly astonished by what was inside.

Draco, through some breakthrough of insight, had gotten him a set of books; he knew he hadn't talked about them around the other boy, much less even mentioned them to the others. It was a three-book set, written by a Greek harpy that discussed the details in muggle history that led into magical. The books were incredibly in-depth, and he'd been pining after them like a sitcom teenaged-girl.

"Draco, just how did you know I wanted these?" He whispered to the other boy, leaning into his side.

"Well, you're always going on about history, and they seemed like the sort of thing you'd read." The boy replied uncomfortably, still blushing. Harry gave him a hard stare. "...I may have prodded Longbottom for some of the things you'd read." Harry snorted, and gave the other boy a quick hug, ignoring his grunt of indignation.

"Thanks, you blockhead." Glancing around, he could see that Draco had certainly put thought into what he had gifted them; Blaise had received a pair of steel reading glasses that, presumably, wouldn't break when he sat on them again. The boy seemed to have the unbreakable habit of putting them right where he was going to sit. He had given Narcissa a lovely shawl that he had probably asked Pansy after, and Lucius a set of quills and ink. It was rather... considerate, for a boy who tossed people's feelings out the window faster than a manic god tossing billionaires.

"Oh, thank you, Draco. This looks beautiful." Narcissa murmured, fingering some of the outer designing of her shawl. Lucius nodded in agreement, giving his son that strange look all fathers had of _you done good._

"Hey, why don't we move past me and see what Harry got us? I'm sure they're great." Draco hurriedly said, waving his hands frantically at him mother. The woman gave him an indulgent smile even as Harry squawked, and waved her hand to send three packages flying. They were hastily wrapped with brown paper and twine, and hardly indicative of what was inside due to a lucky charm he had found.

"U-um, we don't have to do me next, Blaise can go-" Harry rushed out, reaching out to do, well, something before Draco smacked his hand lightly, smirking.

"No, you can't get out of this, Potter. Now, just what has you so-..." Draco stared down at what was inside, speechless. Harry buried his head in his hands with a groan. With cautious hands, Draco slowly turned it this way and that, marveling at it. At last he picked it up, revealing it to the others.

"It" was a glass-cut, blue-tinted dragon figure, about 5 inches tall and 2 wide. It had a long, spanning tail and narrow head, ending in a sharp snout.

"Merlin, Harry where did you get this?" Draco breathed, examining the small details, "This is-this is amazing!"

"I made it."

Everyone paused, staring at the small boy again, who flushed to his roots and ran a hand through his hair. "I like making stuff. I didn't know exactly what to get you, so I decided to go with the craft route."

"Harry, you can't be serious." Draco said incredulously, giving him a wide eye, "This is- this is superb making. How did you even manage this?"

"I transfigured it from a block. It takes a while to get all the small details, but once I finish, I just anchor the effects." Lucius made a small noise, and Narcissa quietly opened the package that had landed in her lap addressed to _Mister and Madame Malfoy. _She was delighted and slightly unsurprised to find a swan with spread wings inside, tinted a light green.

"You always told me you bought them from an antique shop." Blaise mused, peering down at the dragon, "I should have expected this from you. Not like you'd have enough for something like this anyways."  
"Wait, he's done this before?" Draco demanded, leaning over Harry and towards the Zabini.

"Oh yeah, for the past three years. First he did a meerkat of all things, then a raven and panther." Blaise said amiably. "I still have them sitting on my shelf at home."

"That's very nice of you, Blaise." Harry cut in, smiling. The taller boy just slung an arm around his shoulders.

"Well you're excellent at it, Harrison. Thank you for the gifts." Narcissa murmured, gently placing the swan in the middle of the table. Harry reddened again, and ducked his head.

"Hey, wait," Draco said suddenly, "What'd you get Blaise? I don't think you showed." Blaise rolled his eyes and sighed, pulling out a small mirror from his own bundle. Draco stared at it confusedly until Narcissa let out a small "oh", covering her mouth with her hand.

"A two-way mirror?"

"We always talked about it, and it'd still be useful when we're not at school-" Harry started uncomfortably, squirming in his seat. Blaise snickered at his behavior.

"Fratello*****, don't start, you know I love it. Now, why don't we move on, yeah?" The others murmured their agreement, and the next "round" plopped into their laps. Harry's was particularly light, and small in his hands. Opening it revealed a chain with a small locket. He turned it over in his hands curiously, watching the colours shift on its surface. It was unlocked, and he opened it to see an unfamiliar man and woman staring back at him, grinning. Looking closer, he was stunned to recognise the woman's eyes and nose, and the man's hair and chin. He'd seen them on himself for the past 11 years.

"Blaise, is this.." He trailed off, glancing at the other boy under his lashes. Blaise hummed, tightening his arm around Harry's shoulders, and slightly nodded, pretending to be more focused on Draco crooning over the recent addition of _The Afterlife as told by May Bird._ Harry huffed out a half-laugh, and snuggled into the larger boy's side. He put the necklace on, and that was that.

There were other presents from their other friends, and some occasionally for Narcissa and Lucius. Neville had mailed him a small flower that shone in the sunlight, and Hermione had predictably sent him a book on defensive spells. Pansy took a stab at his pride and sent hair-straightening shampoo (which he would begrudgingly use later), and the others had sent assorted candies. There was a brown, unobtrusive package as well, but seeing as there was no indication as to who it was from, he had decided not to touch it for the time being. At one point, Lucius picked up a small box that stank and opened it only to nearly drop it. From his and Narcissa's chuckles, and how they hurried out of the room afterwards, Harry had a feeling he didn't want to know.

But then there was Theo's.

The boy had been giving him strange vibes since Hallow's Eve, and the weekend before winter holidays had set Harry on edge. But, peering at what the mousy boy had gotten him, he... couldn't really tell what the build-up was. They were books, four in fact. Not part of a series, one not even labelled. _Magic Theorem, Physical Manifestations of Energy and the Astringent Relationships,_ a small, leather-bound book that, when he opened it, turned out to detail meditative techniques and mental shielding, and_ Atronaches. _He was holding the last one now, trying to figure out just what was up with it. There was no summary, no note, no indication to what it was about, much less whether or not it was actually anything useful.

"Hey, Draco, Blaise," He said, interrupting a argument over the last scone, "What's an Atronach?"

The two boys froze, staring at him with strange expressions. "Why do you ask, Harry?" Draco asked carefully, relinquishing his grip on the fabled scone. Blaise instantly took a bite out of it to lay claim, but still kept that odd expression.

"Theo sent me this book with that as its title, and I can't figure out what it means. The first few pages are just citations and history."

"It's...sort of a complicated thing, Harry." Blaise said hesitantly, laying his scone on the plate. "People still debate over what can be defined as an Atronach and what can't. Why did he send you that book?"

"Well, what do you two see it as?" Harry pushed, ignoring the question.

"Harry, it's not that simple." Blaise said frustratedly. "It's generally agreed that you don't talk about them. Atronaches are-are dangerous. I hate to say it, but they get so powerful that they go unstable and raze a city or something. I mean, there's the fire of Rome everyone knows about. Theories say that was started by one."

"Not to mention that they tend to get turned into weapons." Draco murmured, squinting at the book in Harry's hands. "Harry, let me see that. I think I've seen it before." Harry warily handed it over, watching as the blond boy inspected it, flipping a few pages. "Yeah, I know I've seen this. I think Theo's older brother used to have this- remember that crisis where the whole family thought he was one?" Blaise nodded his head next to him, but Harry was completely lost.

"Though he was- what? An Atronach?"

"Yeah. Were terrified someone else would find out, so they found some books that wou-" Draco cut himself off, his horrified eyes jerking up to meet Harry's. He lunged towards Harry's books, glancing over the titles and skimming the first few pages. The dread on his face grew and grew.

"Oh Merlin, Harry."

* * *

It was uncomfortable on the floor. But Draco and Blaise refused to let him up until they had checked the books for amy pranks or hexes. Draco was muttering under his breath, and Blaise had a pensive air about him.

"Harry." Blaise spoke abruptly, "What colour am I?"

"Indigo." Harry murmured without thinking, poking at the flower Neville sent. He didn't react when his mind caught up with his mouth, and didn't react to Blaise's sigh.

"Draco?"

"Orange-red."

"You?"

"Green."

"... The strings. That's what tipped him off." Blaise said, eyes narrowing. "Gods, how are we this stupid to not notice? I'm so sorry Harry."

"Sorry?" He asked, sitting up."Why are you sorry? It's not exactly your fault I was born strange." Blaise gave him a sharp look.

"Don't call yourself that." He bit out, softening when Harry flinched at his tone. "Fratello, look at me. it is a matter of how we could have helped you with this if we had figured it out sooner. There were sure signs we should have spotted- the strings, your talent with magic, even you not having to wear your glasses anymore. You didn't go to an optometrist, right? I overheard Snape telling Mama about the visit to Diagon. He said you just stopped wearing them after you suddenly collapsed." Harry bowed his head in embarrassment, at what he didn't know, and shuffle a bit in his seat. A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly, and Blaise gave him a small smile.

"You aren't strange Harry, you're just... powerful."

"That doesn't change the fact we need to figure out how to hide this." Draco broke in, closing a book with a _snap_. "If someone breaks into his mind, or he accidentally goes off the deep end, then we're all in hot water for not telling anyone."

"Then he can learn Occlumency, and I can bribe Smith or Mama into teaching him how to suppress his magic." Blaise argued, frowning. Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Harry cut him off, not wanting another fight ending in threats.

"You know, I doubt anyone will really notice. I've managed the past five years without anyone noticing." He said, "And not much really happens. I wake up tired sometimes, and I can see weird colours, but that's about it, besides some wandless and wordless." The two boys gave him disbelieving looks.

"Harry, that's a big deal. External effects and magical effects are the cornerstones of the development; it's always said that when an Atronach develops wand and wordless, then it's all uphill from there." Harry furrowed his brow and glanced down, not quite sure that was true. Magic normally started to grow and change around 11, hence why children were taught at that age. It made no sense to base a group on a school they may gain.

"You know what, it doesn't matter." The Zabini sighed, running a hand over his face. "Merlin, this day is so messed up..."

"Yes, I'd say so. Now that everything is through, why don't one of you explain this morning?" A voice called from behind them. Harry jumped and twisted around, managing to almost fall down, and Blaise let out a small _eep_.

Behind them were the imposing figures of Lucius, Narcissa, and Professor Snape, a satchel resting against his side and a stony expression on his face. Harry faintly gulped, and cursed every deity in the sky that he couldn't just disappear into nothing to avoid this.

* * *

urrrrgh so sorry its short guys, i really wanted to get this out since its taken a while. Ill try to post a two parter by next week, but it might not happen since ive got three tests, a project, and four midterms bc fuck kids amirite. -_-

**TRANSLATIONS**

Fratello - brother

perchè è..- Why is...

cintura - belt

tu idioto - you idiot

Replies(y?)

**Valantherial - **eee I'm so happy to hear you say that omg w I hope you like this chapter (parter?) as well, since I tried hard to make it at least a bit interesting!


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